The charcoal hissed, fat dripping onto open flame.  

The air was thick with cumin, chili, and smoke—  

the scent of midnight.  

Inside the small street-side grill,  

the chatter of a few scattered customers mixed with laughter and clinking bottles.  

Lynne led Evan to a seat by the window,  

her movements easy, practiced.  

She ordered skewers and two bottles of beer  

without even glancing at the menu.  

“Come on,” she said, lifting her glass once it arrived.  

“Let’s start right.”  

Evan nodded, their glasses met, and he drained his in one go.  

The beer was cold, bitter, and sharp—  

the kind that burned enough to make his chest loosen,  

if only a little.  

Plates arrived in quick rhythm, the aroma overwhelming.  

Lynne bit into a skewer, smiling as she spoke,  

“You’ve been quiet all night.”  

“Something on your mind?”  

Her voice was casual,  

but her eyes weren’t.  

They studied him—steady, observant, almost playful.  

Evan’s fingers froze around his glass.  

The image of Sienna flashed through his mind—  

her faint, forced smile,  

the drunken men around her,  

that hand on her shoulder.  

He forced a breath,  

his throat tightening.  

“Nothing serious,” he lied.  

“Just… work. A lot of pressure lately.”  

The words came out too smooth,  

too prepared.  

Lynne tilted her head, clearly unconvinced,  

but she didn’t press further.  

“Work, huh?” she murmured, refilling both their glasses.  

“Well, that’s what the beer’s for.  

Half the world’s problems disappear after a few rounds.”  

They drank.  

And talked.  

Mostly about the office,  

the people they both pretended to like,  

the little jokes that came easier with alcohol.  

Bit by bit, Evan’s tension faded.  

The ache in his chest didn’t vanish,  

but it dulled under the noise and warmth.  

Lynne leaned closer as she laughed,  

the edge of her sleeve brushing against his arm.  

“You’re not usually this talkative,” she teased.  

“What happened to the quiet, polite version of you?”  

Her tone was light,  

but her touch lingered just long enough to make him tense.  

He didn’t move away.  

Didn’t know how.  

Just smiled the kind of smile that hid everything.  

Outside, the city was asleep,  

but inside, the small grill pulsed with light and heat.  

Lynne raised her glass again,  

her gaze soft yet deliberate.  

“Evan,” she said slowly,  

“sometimes you don’t need to talk about what’s bothering you.”  

“As long as someone’s there—  

the drink goes down easier.”  

Evan stared at her,  

the warmth of the fire flickering in her eyes—  

and in his chest,  

something shifted again,  

just enough to hurt.