Unexpected Invitation
675 Words
“Uh… sorry. I’m just playing a challenge with my friends.”
A low chuckle slipped from David’s throat, rough and quietly amused.
“Friends?” he repeated, glancing past her.
Across the room, her group immediately tried to look busy—failing miserably. A few of them were very obviously watching.
“Ah,” he murmured. “That explains it.”
His gaze returned to her, sharper now, almost entertained.
“Though it doesn’t explain why you look like you’re about to run,” he added. “You came all this way just for a dare… might as well commit to it.”
Before she could respond, he stepped closer.
Not rushed. Not aggressive.
Just enough to make her breath catch.
The faint scent of smoke and something expensive lingered around him, subtle but unmistakable. His presence alone seemed to push everything else—the noise, the laughter, the reunion—into the background.
“For the record,” he continued, voice lower now, “I don’t usually let people walk up to me that easily.”
A pause.
“But…” his lips curved slightly, “I’ll make an exception tonight.”
He tilted his head, studying her like he’d already made up his mind about something she didn’t understand yet.
“Consider that hug your first mistake,” he said lightly.
Then, softer—
“And your first debt.”
Her brows knit slightly. “Debt?”
David let out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh, and straightened.
“Relax,” he said. “I’m not dragging you anywhere.”
His eyes flicked once more toward her friends—still watching, still whispering—before settling back on her.
“If you really want to thank me,” he went on, tone casual but deliberate, “you can treat me to dinner.”
A beat.
“Tomorrow night.”
It didn’t sound like a question.
More like a decision he was allowing her to agree to.
His phone buzzed again in his pocket, but this time he ignored it completely.
“Well?” he prompted, one brow lifting slightly. “Or was the brave act only good for five seconds?”
“Eh? I—I’m so sorry for bothering you. I didn’t mean to… and why would I go, si— I mean… David.” I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the floor would just swallow me whole.
A low chuckle slipped from him.
When I didn’t move, I felt his fingers lightly touch my chin—firm enough to guide, but not rough.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Open your eyes.”
There was something almost amused in his tone, but softer now.
“I don’t bite,” he added, a hint of teasing slipping through. “Not without a good reason.”
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Big mistake.
He was closer than before.
Too close.
“And drop the ‘sir,’” he continued, studying my face like he found my embarrassment entertaining. “You’re making me sound older than I am.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“You didn’t bother me,” he went on, voice lowering just a little. “You walked up to me, looked me straight in the eye, and did something most people here wouldn’t even dare.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
“That’s not nothing.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. The noise of the reunion faded again, like we were standing in our own quiet pocket of space.
Then he stepped back—just enough to break the intensity.
“If you’re going to apologize,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “at least do it properly.”
He pulled out a sleek card and held it out to me.
“Dinner,” he added simply. “Tomorrow night.”
A pause.
“You can say no,” he said, though the look in his eyes suggested he already knew my answer.
Another beat.
“But I don’t think you will.”
- Writer
