"Is there something wrong with your food?", Bri asked Quentin.
"No. Why do you ask?" Quentin did his best to avoid looking at Bri.
"Because you are only staring at it."
Quentin cleared his throat awkwardly before saying: "I am admiring it's beauty, and not sure from where to start."
"Oh…", Bri smiled brightly and poked with her fork some greens and a tentacle from Quentin's plate.
"Let me help. Start from here…", she hovered the food in front of his mouth.
Quentin's lips were never so tightly shut in his life. He swallowed hard as his sight fell on that tentacle.
Bri struggled to keep a straight face. She knows that he ordered this seafood salad only to score points with her, and she has no intention of making it easy for him.
"Are you refusing to take it because it's my fork?", she innocently asked.
She leaned closer and spoke softly close to his ear: "Last night you didn't mind saliva exchange. How is this different?"
