The waiter approaches, removing the leftover plates with the practiced efficiency of someone used to working in an upscale establishment. In their place, a large milkshake arrives, decadently decorated with whipped cream, sprinkles, and a perfectly placed cherry on top. It looks too pretty to touch, but I don't hesitate to take a sip.
"Are you trying to fatten me up?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at Zane as I continue to sip the indulgent treat.
"Not fatten you up," he says, his voice smooth and playful. "But I'm hoping I get to be lucky later today."
He gives me one of his flirty smiles, the kind that could devastate entire armies. It's unfair, really. My lips pause on the straw, my brain doing a quick flip.
"Zane, last night was a mis—"
"No, it wasn't a mistake." His voice cuts through my words, firm and resolute. "Neither you nor I were inebriated. We made that decision consciously. I won't let you call one of the best nights of my life a mistake."
