LINES CROSSED. (BWWM)

Mason

Emily told me the reservation was at 7:30, but it took me longer than expected to find the restaurant. It was tucked away on a dim side street downtown with no sign, just the faint golden glow through sleek floor-to-ceiling windows. When I finally stepped inside at 7:50, the scent of fresh paint, expensive cologne, and garlic butter hit me all at once.

The place was modern—clean lines, low lighting, small tables spaced for intimacy, and a buzz of quiet chatter humming beneath soft jazz.

I scanned the room and spotted Emily's familiar blonde head tucked behind a wine glass at a four-seater table near the back. She looked up at me and smiled like I hadn't just made her wait twenty minutes. I crossed the room with steady strides, slipping into the seat across from her.

"This place was a little hard to find," I admitted as I pulled the chair closer and sat down.

"Hey," she beamed, like nothing in the world was wrong.

"What's up," I said, keeping my tone casual as she slid a menu across the table toward me.

Before either of us could say more, a waiter appeared—bald, probably in his fifties, and dressed in crisp black slacks and a white button-down.

"Can I start you guys off with anything to drink?" he asked, voice warm but practiced.

"I'll have a glass of white wine," Emily replied, flashing him a polite smile.

"And for you, sir?" he asked, eyes flicking to me.

"Bourbon. On the rocks," I answered. He nodded and turned away.

I glanced down at the menu, letting the silence settle. "How've you been?" I asked, eyes still scanning the pasta section.

Emily didn't answer immediately.

"Isn't that your friend?" she asked instead, voice tilting with curiosity.

I followed her gaze across the dining room. And there she was.

Amina.

She was standing near the front of the restaurant, wrapped in an awkward embrace by a tall man who had his hands firm on her waist. The hostess looked flustered, Keith looked impatient, and Amina... she looked uncomfortable. Her eyes kept darting around like she was searching for an exit.

"Yeah," I said after a beat, turning back to Emily. "That's Amina."

Emily's eyes sparkled with something I didn't like. "We should ask them to join us," she said lightly.

I furrowed my brow. "Why?"

"Come on, it'll be fun," she said with a grin, already waving in Amina's direction before I could shut it down.

My jaw clenched as I watched Amina's face shift from confusion to irritation. She said something to Keith, then made her way over, heels clicking softly against the floor. Her royal blue dress clung to her like it was made just for her—tight around the waist, dipping low at the chest, revealing smooth brown skin that made it hard to breathe.

When her eyes landed on me, they narrowed with a thousand unspoken words. I gave a half-shrug.

"Hey Emily, how are you?" Amina asked, tone polite but clipped.

"I'm fantastic. I was just telling Mason how you and your boyfriend should join us," Emily said brightly.

I cringed. Boyfriend? The fuck?

"No, it's okay," Amina said through a fake smile, her eyes flicking to mine in warning. "We wouldn't want to impose."

Before Emily could press, Keith appeared behind her, all smiles and confidence, his hands slipping back around Amina's waist like he'd claimed her. She stiffened for half a second, eyes locking with mine. I didn't look away.