I tore a piece of bread from the slightly crusty loaf and dipped it into the soup.
The broth was warm, flavored lightly with herbs and vegetables—simple, yet it hit the spot. As I brought the soaked bread to my mouth, I stole a glance at Evelyn.
"Hey," I muttered between bites, lowering my voice just enough for only her to hear. "Enough already. Stop glaring like that. You're going to ruin my chances of scoring someone tonight."
Her spoon paused mid-air. Slowly, she turned her head to look at me, her expression as deadpan as stone. "You weren't kidding about that?"
I met her gaze with a matter-of-fact nod. "Of course not. I'm a young man with perfectly healthy needs. It wouldn't kill me to spend a night in pleasant company."
She didn't say anything after that. No scolding, no sarcasm—just a subtle tightening of her lips as she turned back to her bowl and resumed eating.
That silence was more telling than any retort.
