EROS CASHBACK SYSTEM: You Can't Fake the Interest

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: The First Spark

Somewhere between the second helping and the third joke Garrett made at his own expense, dinner stopped feeling like something either of them needed to get through.

Emiliana laughed at something he said about burning the first attempt at garlic bread three days ago — a real laugh, not the polite kind and Garrett caught himself grinning back at her for no reason other than that the sound of it did something to him he wasn’t going to examine too closely right now.

He noticed her smile more than he probably should have. It wasn’t a practiced one, not the kind she probably wore for cameras or her father’s guests. This one pulled slightly higher on one side, small and a little crooked, and it showed up right before she said something sharp.

He liked that one best.

She finished eating and didn’t move to leave the table. She sat there instead, glass in hand, elbow propped on the surface, in no hurry to be anywhere else.

Her phone sat next to her plate, screen dark, untouched since they’d sat down.

Garrett noticed that too.

"More wine?" he asked, mostly as an excuse to get up.

"Go on then."

He topped up her glass and caught himself looking a beat too long while he did it — the line of her shoulders, relaxed now in a way they hadn’t been earlier, the curve of her neck when she tilted her head to say something to him. He was fully aware of how she looked sitting in his kitchen like she belonged there, and he let himself notice it without pretending otherwise.

"You’re staring again," she said, without looking up.

"Pouring wine requires focus."

"Sure it does."

She glanced up at him then, and for a second neither of them said anything. The pause would’ve felt awkward an hour ago. Now, neither seemed particularly interested in filling it.

"I’ve got this," Garrett said, gathering the plates.

"I know." Emiliana stood anyway, picking up her own.

"You’re my guest, remember."

"I stopped being a guest about two hours ago."

She carried her plate to the sink like it wasn’t up for discussion.

He didn’t argue further. He rinsed, she dried, and somewhere in the middle of handing dishes back and forth he noticed, without really trying to, how her sleeves were pushed up past her elbows, how easy she looked doing something as ordinary as drying a plate in his kitchen.

It wasn’t a performance. She wasn’t trying to look like anything.

"You’ve got a system for this," she said, watching him stack things a specific way.

"Everyone’s got a system."

"This is an oddly specific one for two plates and a pan."

"I’ve got my methods."

She bumped his shoulder with hers, light, barely anything, and went back to drying.

He glanced sideways at her, at the line of her jaw, the way a stray bit of hair kept falling forward no matter how many times she pushed it back, and thought, not for the first time tonight, that he liked having her in his space more than he’d expected to.

He also noticed, in a way he wasn’t going to say out loud, that she wasn’t just good company. She had a way of standing that made his kitchen feel smaller than it actually was, and every so often, when she reached past him for something, he was reminded he had shoulders and a chest for reasons beyond just fitting through doorways.

She noticed him noticing, and didn’t say anything about it.

By the time the last plate was put away, the kitchen was quiet, the flat settled into that late-evening stillness that made the whole night feel slower than it actually was.

Neither of them moved to end it.

Emiliana leaned against the counter, arms loosely crossed, in no rush to reach for her bag or her phone or anything that would signal the night was over. Garrett folded the tea towel without really needing to, just something to do with his hands while he stood there, comfortable, in a way that would’ve seemed impossible a few hours ago.

"You’ve gone quiet," Emiliana said.

Garrett looked down at the tea towel in his hands. "Thinking."

"That’s dangerous."

"Usually."

She smiled.

He put the tea towel down.

For a moment, neither of them seemed to know what came next. The obvious thing would’ve been to suggest a film, put something on, give the evening somewhere to go so they weren’t just standing there looking at each other in a kitchen that suddenly seemed much smaller than it had an hour ago.

Instead, Garrett reached for his glass.

Emiliana did the same.

Their glasses touched lightly.

"To surviving dinner," he said.

"To surviving your cooking."

"That’s not what I said."

"I know."

He smiled. She did too.

Neither of them looked away immediately.

Emiliana’s phone remained where she’d left it, untouched beside the empty plates. Her bag was still by the chair. There was nothing stopping her from leaving.

She simply wasn’t.

Garrett became aware of that in a way he hadn’t been before.

She was still here because she wanted to be.

The thought sat quietly between them.

Emiliana’s gaze held his for another second before dropping briefly toward his mouth.

Then back to his eyes.

It was quick. Almost nothing.

Garrett noticed anyway.

His heartbeat picked up, just enough to make him wonder whether she could hear it.

She didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

The refrigerator hummed quietly behind them. Somewhere outside, a car passed along the street, its sound fading almost as quickly as it arrived. The curtains shifted slightly with the air from the window.

Everything else seemed to have become background.

Garrett had spent most of the day worrying about getting things right.

Now he couldn’t remember what he’d been so worried about.

Emiliana’s expression softened.

"You’re doing it again," she said quietly.

Garrett almost smiled. "Doing what?"

"Looking at me."

He considered denying it. He didn’t.

"Maybe."

The corner of her mouth lifted.

"Maybe?"

"Still deciding."

She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him for a second. And Garrett realized he didn’t want to look away.

Not because he was trying to impress her. Not because the System had given him another requirement. Not because he was wondering what he could gain from the moment.

He just wanted to stay there witith her. The thought settled somewhere deeper than the others had.

Emiliana looked away first, but she was smiling when she did. Garrett let out a quiet breath and looked down at his glass.

For the first time that evening, he wasn’t wondering whether this counted as a successful date.

He was wondering when exactly he’d started wanting there to be another one.

And neither of them seemed particularly interested in making this one end just yet.

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