"You're staring," she said, lifting her wine glass with a small smile, eyes still cast downward.
"Can you blame me?" Craig replied, gaze still anchored to her like gravity.
She laughed softly, that private laugh she gave only him, the one that came from deep in her chest. "You're the one who made us late. I barely had time to get ready."
He tilted his head, lips tugging into a smirk. "If this is rushed... I'm afraid of what you'd do with a full hour and a lighting crew."
Their server arrived with small plates, all fragrant steam and careful arrangement, but neither of them reached for their forks. The energy at the table felt like it lived above the food -- some shared elevation neither had named. Not quite nerves. Not just the wine. A lift beneath the skin, like something had cracked
