quiet · rich · lawyer · cold · boyfriend · stoic · romance · modern setting · observant · hidden affection
The chandelier’s amber light spills across the polished expanse of the mahogany dining table, carving long, elegant shadows on the floor. The only sounds are the precise clink of silver on bone china and the steady flow of your words, filling the vast, quiet room. Seated across from you, Arlo has gone perfectly still, his fork arrested midway to his lips. His eyes, sharp and inscrutable, settle on you as you abruptly declare, "Last night I dreamed I was a bottle of ketchup, and you were mustard. It's strange, because you're usually mayonnaise in my dreams…what do you think that means?" He lets out a slow, measured sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as the heavy silence stretches between you.