Lando suddenly turned his face away from , but faintly, I could see his ears turning so red that I almost thought he was burning.
He cleared his throat quickly, his voice a little rough. "Let’s ... let’s go now. I already made a reservation."
My eyes widened. When? When on earth did he make a reservation?! He hadn’t even called anyone in the car. Unless ... he ssaged his assistant quietly?
Oh, perfect. Now I’d dragged his poor assistant into my late-night chaos too.
"Why are you just standing there?" he asked. "Let’s go."
"Coming!" I squeaked, hurrying after him.
Even though he had apologized earlier, saying he might walk a little slowly, in reality, he wasn’t slow at all. If anything, he actually moved as quickly as a rabbit instead of a turtle!
My eyes drifted lower, and I instantly regretted it. Every ti he pushed forward with his crutches, the muscles in his forearms flexed, the veins along his hands standing out in a way that made my stomach flip.
For a second, I wondered if he was secretly training his arms rather than just relying on them to walk.
The more I stared, the more I noticed his big, veiny hands. My thoughts stumbled. I wondered ... No, I wasn’t thinking anything dirty! I was just wondering what it would feel like to have those big hands holding mine. That was it, nothing more.
When we reached the restaurant, the waiter guided us to a table right by the ocean. Lanterns swayed above us, casting a soft golden glow that made everything feel calm, romantic ... dangerous for my poor heart.
I didn’t even get the chance to order because apparently, Lando had already taken care of it when he made the reservation.
And then—bam!—the waiters ca out carrying tray after tray until the whole table was covered. Giant plates of crabs, clams, lobster, shrimp, and seafood I couldn’t even na.
I just sat there, staring in disbelief. There was no way I could eat all that. But what made panic even more was ... wasn’t this ridiculously expensive?! He even ordered half a king crab!
My fingers twitched in my lap. Should I tell him it was too much? Or should I just ... pretend I didn’t know how much a king crab cost and eat quietly?
He wouldn’t ask to split the bill fifty-fifty, right? I was pretty sure the price of tonight’s dinner was way more than when I treated him last ti.
Before I could spiral any further, Lando’s calm voice cut in. "Why are you frowning at the food? Don’t you like it?"
I froze. "N-No! It’s not that! It’s just ... there’s so much. Are you sure we can finish all of this?"
The corner of his lips twitched, like he was holding back a smile. "Don’t worry about finishing it. Just eat what you like."
That only made my panic worse. Eat what I like? What if the thing I liked was the ridiculously expensive king crab sitting in front of ?!
I picked up the tongs and carefully grabbed a piece of shrimp instead, thinking it would be rude to reach for the most expensive thing first.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Lando had already taken the king crab. He cracked the shell open with the scissors the waiter left for us. Then, without a word, he placed the at onto my plate.
"This is the best part. You should try it," he said before I even had the chance to say anything.
"Thank you ..." I whispered, then took a small bite of the crab at he placed on my plate. The flavor lted across my tongue, but what ward more wasn’t the taste, it was the way he gave it to .
After that, we ate in silence, letting the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore fill the space between us.
The night breeze was a little chilly, but my hoodie kept warm. Warm enough that I could just sit there and watch the ocean without shivering.
It was only then that I noticed sothing. Lando wasn’t just eating quietly, but he kept opening the shells of the seafood and placing the at onto my plate. Again and again.
No wonder it felt like I’d been eating endless pieces of at even though I hadn’t opened that many shells myself.
I held my breath and felt lancholy as old mories surfaced in my mind.
I grew up in a poor orphanage, where imitation seafood was all we could afford. Once, when a friend invited to their birthday party at the beach, I finally had the chance to taste real seafood. At first, I was thrilled, but the excitent faded when I looked around.
All the other children had parents beside them, patiently cracking open shells and placing the at on their plates. anwhile, I sat alone at a corner table, struggling to pry one open with my tiny hands, wishing soone would help too.
The seafood tasted good, but I never enjoyed the process of opening the shells. It always felt ssy, frustrating, and lonely.
As I grew older, I learned to open them by myself. But even then, I would sotis catch sight of couples sharing their als, one carefully opening the shell for the other. Or parents still doing it for their children, no matter how old they were.
At the end of it all, I was still alone. Watching others share those simple, tender monts only reminded of what I didn’t have. I thought I would always be that way; eating quietly, breaking shells on my own, with no one beside .
I blinked, pulling myself back from the mory. When I looked down, another neat piece of crab at had already appeared on my plate.
Now I suddenly had soone who willingly opened the shells for . To others, it might seem like a small thing, or they might think I was being too sentintal, but truly ... It ant a lot to .
But hadn’t Lando also been alone since he was little? What if he never had anyone to do this for him either?
Quietly, I reached for a lobster, cracked the shell open, and placed the at onto his plate. I whispered softly, "I can’t eat all of this by myself. You have to eat too."
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