This isn’t what I had in mind, I huffed inwardly, as I pushed shrimp through white sauce, gliding it around the linguine that was once delicately adorned in fresh herbs and seasonings across the plate in front of me.

  “You okay?” Jack asked, eyeing me with a discerning brow that cut through the dimly amber light of the humble yet fancy restaurant.

  I looked up in dissatisfied fatigue at him, peering through the romantic aura that presented itself and trying to hold down the disappointment that I felt, with everything at that.

  “Sure,” I responded in a dull manner, before skewering the shrimp with my fork and planting it in my mouth.

  “Oh god,” Jack laughed, “the only statement a man wants to hear less than the dreaded 'I'm fine.'”

  “I am fine,” I mumbled, chewing the flavorful shrimp slowly, savoring it, and letting his words meld into the ambient background strings that played through a tiny sound-system in this hole in the wall establishment, despite it being an incredible choice nonetheless.

  “That certainly sounds reassuring,” Jack said sarcastically, before turning serious again. ” I’m know it’s not what you were hoping for.”

  “Not true,” I said. “The shrimp is great.” I munched idly, like an unfazed goat who grazed across the lands without a care in the world. And yes, I am fine comparing myself to a goat. I'll take no slander against those wonderful creatures!

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  “You know what I mean,” Jack looked down, unsure of how to respond further, and sliced a thick piece of steak from his plate, before deftly delivering it to his mouth. He chewed quietly, his gaze pointed on the candle flickering at the center of our table. For such a small flame, it illuminated our faces with intense brightness as it waxed and waned throughout the evening.

  The restaurant was small, busy, but hushed voices carried discretely throughout the intimate space. Our silence felt like the loudest thing in there, which built up gradually throughout the dinner.

  “Do you want to talk about anything?” Jack started up.

  “What’s there to talk about?” I looked up at him, exhausted from everything we’d been through recently. It wasn't only him. No, it was my fault too. We hadn't communicated much about our relationship recently. Being the target of assassination of life and character was a little much at times, along with losing friends and family. Still, I couldn't help but ask for some time to decompress. Some time between the two of us. And no...not just a nice dinner. Though I wouldn't say I was angry about it, as I piled more shrimp into my mouth.

  “Everything that’s happened? What we should do next?” Jack rattled off some things that drew nothing but disinterest from my direction. “How about us?”

  Suddenly, my head piqued up with interest, a slight glimmer of excitement waving across my brow.

  Jack placed his cutlery down and slid a hand across the table to grip my waiting palm. “Nothing has changed there,” he smiled. “I assure you.”

  “Maybe,” I sighed, “that’s the problem.” It spilled out of my mouth accidentally.

  Jack frowned. “Oh,” he said, releasing my hand and sitting back in his chair.

  “No,” I said, flustered, “that’s no what I meant. You know...” I stuttered, “I just wish—“

  “I understand,” Jack said, cutting me off. “Maybe I didn’t want to move too quickly. There’s too many dangers out there.”

  “Jack,” I said, pulling his attention back to me. “There will always be dangers. But...we have to live our lives.” This time, I reciprocated and stretched my hand to close over his. “We may not have tomorrow, but we can have tonight.”

  “Is that from a song?” Jack smirked.

  “You’re ruining things!” I slapped his hand playfully and slumped back in my chair, crossing my arms playfully.

  “Well,” Jack, grinned, “maybe I can fix them...back at the room?”