The coals were burning low,  

but the scent of smoke and spice still clung to the air.  

Half the bottles on the table were empty.  

Evan’s head was warm, his thoughts blurred yet strangely lucid.  

Lynne’s cheeks glowed pink,  

her eyes shining with the lazy gleam of someone comfortably drunk.  

She looked freer now—  

dangerously so.  

“Evan.”  

Her voice was low, smooth—  

and when he looked up, she was already watching him.  

“Are you hiding something from me?”  

There was laughter in her tone,  

but the way her gaze lingered carried something sharper.  

Evan forced a smile, raising his glass as a shield.  

“Nothing like that… just tired.  

Work’s been rough lately.”  

She tilted her head, lips curling.  

“Work, huh?”  

Then, with a sudden grin—  

“Or maybe you’re just hiding a crush?”  

He froze.  

His glass nearly slipped from his fingers.  

The words hit like a spark to dry tinder—  

quiet at first,  

then spreading fast.  

“I—uh…”  

He laughed awkwardly, heat rising to his face.  

“Don’t joke like that.  

You’re way out of my league.”  

Lynne laughed, a soft, smoky sound that didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

Then, without warning, she leaned in—  

her arm slipping around his.  

The scent of her perfume, mixed with the faint sweetness of beer,  

filled the small space between them.  

“So…” she said,  

her voice a whisper of play and provocation.  

“If *I* don’t mind—  

does that mean you’d finally be brave enough?”  

The world roared in his ears.  

His pulse pounded harder than the music.  

She was too close.  

Close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath.  

Logic screamed *no.*  

But the rest of him—tired, lonely, half drunk—  

couldn’t move.  

The laughter, the sizzling grill, the passing cars—  

everything around them blurred into a hum.  

And for a heartbeat,  

the night seemed to hold its breath.  

Only the two of them remained,  

caught somewhere between a joke—  

and something that wasn’t.