When the table was finally cleared and dessert was on its way, Lucien had a terrible premonition.
And of course, the universe decided to bully him: the dessert was one enormous milkshake with two straws twisted together into a heart shape, ending with a double-tip meant for two people to drink in close proximity.
A nightmare. A romantic, pastel-colored nightmare. And worse, it was his favorite sea-salt milkshake.
He stared at it as it betrayed him, like it personally decided to ruin his dignity today.
"I think I'll pass," Lucien muttered, sinking back in his chair.
"Oh? You are backing out of the bet?"
Edmund asked, already holding one straw like he was seconds away from stealing a kiss from it.
"Does that mean I win?"
Lucien clicked his tongue. Pride was a disease, and he was clearly terminal. He leaned forward and drank from the straw aggressively, hoping to chug this humiliation as fast as possible.
