Chapter 13
Jewel
All I can think about all day is seeing Myrran again. I feel like a string of lights that someone just plugged in for the first time, beaming at everyone for no reason. I arrive at the restaurant with way too much anticipation for someone meeting a guy she barely knows.
The sign above the door, gilded and shaped like a dragon’s curling tail, reads Ember & Ash. Through the plate-glass window, I catch a glimpse of the charming, comfortable interior. It’s obviously a high-end place, but it’s been designed with a rustic comfort that makes it welcoming to anyone.
A dragon hostess with glimmering silver scales and a sleek braid down her back greets me the moment I step inside. “Hey, you’re Myrran’s friend, right?”
I blink. Friend? Sure, that’s what we are. Friends who have mind-blowing sex. Nothing is official, so that’s close enough. “Uh, yeah. Jewel.”
“Welcome!” She flashes a bright smile, leading me to a cozy table near the open kitchen, where I have a view of Myrran and the other flame-grillers working in the open kitchen.
It’s so cool to see him in his element, graceful and focused, the occasional flicker of fire from his mouth stoking the grill or finishing plates.
There’s clearly a lot of skill and timing involved to make the flames lick the food with such precision.
It’s mesmerizing and nothing like I expected.
When he catches sight of me, he stops everything, his entire face glowing just like mine has been all day. My heart stutters, and I wave at him. He motions to let me know he’ll come see me in a minute.
A human server appears at my table almost instantly. “No menu for you. You’re getting the VIP treatment,” he says, raising his brows. A series of dishes follows—colorful, spicy, and completely over the top. Each course is more stunning than the last, like something out of a TV show.
As I eat, savoring every bite, I watch Myrran cook.
He’s incredible, a natural in every way, his movements an intricate rhythm of fork and flame.
But I can’t help noticing his rapport with the other dragons in the kitchen and dining room.
They call out to him, teasing him, leaning in close to talk.
The broad smiles and cheeky banter they exchange remind me a lot of what he and I have shared.
His cheesy jokes aren’t just for me, apparently. I stab at my food, trying to make sense of why that’s bothering me.
I tell myself I’ll feel better once he comes over to say hi, but then I see him make the hostess a special plate for her dinner. Shrimp skewers, just like he made for me. Sweet and considerate, like I’ve come to expect from him in the short time I’ve known him. I swallow hard and put down my fork.
After she eats at the end of the bar, she brings him a glass of ice water, offers him a towel to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
He accepts both, and they laugh about something I can’t hear.
I’m not jealous. It’s obvious they’re just being friendly, co-worker supporting co-worker.
So why is it making me want to evaporate?
I stare at my fork. The food is amazing, but my appetite has disappeared.
Have I completely misread him? The way he smiles at me, the thoughtful actions—is that just how he treats everyone?
The idea burns worse than the spiciest dish on the table.
“Hey.” His voice startles me, and I glance up to find him standing by the table, wiping his hands on the towel. “How’s everything?”
“Incredible,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “You’re so talented.”
He frowns slightly, tilting his head like he’s picked up on my discomfort. “You okay? You seem—”
“Myrran!” The silver-scaled dragon waves from the bar. “I need you for a tableside!”
He hesitates, glancing between me and her. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Sure,” I lie.
But he doesn’t come right back. Of course not. He’s busy with work. He gets pulled into task after task, and the short time I have between shifts ticks away.
The server comes by with a dessert cart, but I shake my head and grab my bag. “I need to go. Can you bring the check?”
He looks surprised but does as I ask. Even with the friends-and-family discount, I wince at the price. I leave cash on the table, more than enough to cover the meal and tip.
Walking out into the cold night air alone feels like I’m a pinata being smacked with a reality stick. It shatters all my illusions and leaves them scattered on the sidewalk. I feel ridiculous. Myrran’s “future wife” isn’t me. How could I be, when it’s obvious we’re just friends?
Fun friends. Friends who fuck. Maybe it’ll grow into something more at some point, but right now, we’re just a little more than strangers.
I got carried away. I should know better than to catch feelings from a single date. I’m just missing my family, and a cute guy was nice to me. Made me feel good for one night. My loneliness made it seem more meaningful than it was. That’s all.