Elara stirred her soup absently, her thoughts scattered. She couldn't quite place what she was feeling, but it was unusual—foreign, even. Something about the way Luca's gaze lingered on her, sharp and unflinching, sent a faint heat creeping up her neck.
'Shy?' she thought, the word startling her. It didn't feel right—didn't fit the walls she'd built around herself over the years. She was no stranger to attention, having grown used to being observed and judged since she was a child. But this… this was different.
Her fingers tightened around her spoon, the warmth of the broth doing little to combat the sudden fluttering in her chest.
'Why is he looking at me like that?'
