Enemies to 🔥Rom com
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Charles Winston Mayer-Chaz-is your typical trust fund, never gonna grow up playboy. His carefree bachelor existence is filled with women, money, and limited responsibilities in NYC is interrupted by the untimely de...
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Walking into the restaurant, well, after taking an elevator to the top floor, Chaz's lips remain in a playful smirk, accompanying that look of trouble—the good kind—in his eyes.
This place is over the top fancy. I'm not saying just overpriced. I mean, people wait to get in here for years, there's only a select number of tables.
"How'd you even pull this off?" I ask, handing my jacket to the coat check. Chaz's palm slips down, resting on the small of my back, over the black satin of my dress.
The young hostess, in her professional, yet snug attire, sleek dark hair, and mid-twenties tits, continues to make eyes at Chaz. I fight the urge to roll mine or shoot a nasty look. He can't help his appearance. He can, however, help how he reacts, and I'm glad to say he's completely unphased by the additional attention.
"Will this be acceptable?" She motions to one of the very limited tables in the dim-lit dining area. The brightness from the city emits a soft glow through the floor to ceiling windows. The restaurant boasts a spectacular view of the twinkling lights from the surrounding buildings, giving an illusion of stars—a novelty in large cities—through the dark tinted glass.
"Whatever she wants," Chaz replies, giving me a wink as I turn towards him. He presses a lingering kiss to my cheek, eyes not deviating from my face, not giving her the time of day.
"It's fine, thanks." I produce a polite smile as she leaves us at a small, candle-lit table. Black linen covering it, adding to the romantic atmosphere.
Before I can even turn to my chair, it's swiftly pulled out next to me by an adorable older gentleman in a crisp white dress shirt and dark slacks. "Allow me," he offers. I hide an uncomfortable chuckle as I smooth the bottom of my dress quickly before he pushes the seat under me.
Fuck. This is fancy.
"Good evening, my name is Simon," he begins. Chaz flashes a blindingly white grin at me before directing his attention to the waiter. I'm not focusing on a thing he's saying—going over wines and cocktails and all that. Besides the amazing outdoor view, I'm enjoying the one across from me. His gaze shifts between the waiter and me, with a smile not only on his lips but in his eyes. And I'm just wondering how someone can seem so different at first?
First impressions really aren't everything, I guess?
"Is that good with you?" Chaz asks with a little crease between his raised brows. Simon looks from him to me with an encouraging smile.
"Sounds great," I respond, without even knowing what I'm agreeing to. He gives a nod, with a short cough as the foot I slipped out of my heel, brushes over his lower leg.
Oops.
Giving a quick wink, gazing at him through my thick, mascara'd lashes, the ball of my foot travels higher.
