Did you just move your leg?
Jasmine caught Evan pulling his leg away under the table. She froze, eyes wide, not sure she'd seen it right. She'd tried so hard to reach out, but he'd moved away, refusing to let their legs touch. Why? What did that mean? Was she really so much less than Emily? Humiliation hit her like a punch to the chest, sharp and hot.
Then—out of nowhere—a hand brushed her thigh.
She stopped breathing for a second. It wasn't rough. Not even close. Just a whisper of a touch, lingering a heartbeat longer than it should've. The heat of it soaked right through her dress, shooting up her back. Her whole body tensed. Every sense dialed up to eleven.
She kept her eyes down. No way she'd look up now.
The tablecloth covered everything, but the pounding in her chest was so loud, she wondered if anyone else could hear. Was he doing this on purpose? Or was she just imagining things, desperate for some sign?
The hand moved again—fingers pressing, just barely, and goosebumps raced across her skin. Then it disappeared, like nothing had happened.
Above the table, everyone kept chatting and laughing, cups clinking, totally normal. Jasmine didn't move. Her thigh still burned where he'd touched her. Inside, her mind spun out, way faster than she'd ever show on her face.
She was nervous. She was shy. But underneath all that, she was buzzing with excitement. Secretly flirting with her roommate's boyfriend—Emily's boyfriend—felt wild and dangerous and way too tempting. She wanted to prove something. To Emily. To herself. That she was better, more wanted, too irresistible to ignore.
Evan had a girlfriend, and he kept telling himself to take it slow. But Jasmine's teasing wore him down, poking at something reckless inside him.
Suddenly, Evan picked up his phone and angled it toward Jasmine. One simple message glowed on the screen.
Evan: Wanna talk?
Jasmine's cheeks flared. Her fingers hovered, then she typed back.
Jasmine: …Yes.
A moment later, his reply popped up.
Evan: After dinner. Stay back—make an excuse.
He set his phone down like nothing happened.
Jasmine stared at her own screen, heart thumping. She'd come to dinner planning to steal Evan's attention from Emily. Now, she might steal more than that.
Across the table, Emily noticed Evan glance at his phone.
"Who were you texting?" she asked lightly.
"Just work," Evan answered without missing a beat.
He smiled, laughed, and kept chatting like usual. But Jasmine could tell. Next to her anxious excitement, Evan looked totally in control.
While he laughed with Emily, Evan's eyes flicked to Isabella.
Emily and Lena had set the bar high, sure, but you couldn't ignore Isabella. Pale skin, delicate features, long hair falling perfectly over her shoulders—she had that effortless, almost goddess-like vibe. Jeans and a plain white tee, but she still looked stunning. Her figure was all long lines and subtle curves, and her cool, distant manner made her even more intriguing. Just like a daffodil blooming in the cold.
Isabella sat there, quiet as ever. The second Evan finally looked away and stopped watching her, she let out a tiny breath she'd been holding in. Of course she'd felt his eyes on her here and there—she wasn't clueless. Every time, her body got a little tense, nerves buzzing under her skin.
Evan was Emily's boyfriend. Even though she and Emily hadn't exactly hit it off during their first month as roommates, they still shared a room. The last thing she wanted was to get tangled up with Emily's boyfriend.
So when Evan stopped staring, Isabella relaxed. She picked up her juice, took a careful sip, and, as she set it down, let herself sneak a look at Evan. Then she sighed, but only to herself.
If it weren't for Emily, honestly, she'd be interested in Evan. He looked good, dressed well, carried himself with this calm, quiet confidence—he was pretty much her ideal. If Emily wasn't in the picture, she wouldn't mind seeing where things might go with him.
But reality was reality. He was her roommate's boyfriend. That was that. Isabella sighed again and looked away.
"Isabella, what's up? Why'd you sigh just now? Something bothering you?" Rose had just finished taking photos and slid back into her seat, eyes bright with curiosity.
Emily looked over too. Evan glanced at her.
"Did I sigh? You must've imagined it," Isabella said, meeting their eyes without missing a beat.
"Really? I could've sworn I heard you," Rose said, uncertain.
"Yeah, you're imagining things," Isabella said, a little firmer, nodding.
"Oh, I guess so. But honestly—you, sighing? You're gorgeous! The only one who can keep up with Emily. Everyone says so. You two are the most beautiful girls in the department. What could you possibly be worried about?" Rose chattered on, waving her hands for emphasis.
Isabella smiled but didn't bother answering. She slid right past it. "You took a bunch of photos earlier? Let me see."
"Of course! I took so many, and they all turned out amazing. If I post these everyone on my Moments will freak out," Rose said, already unlocking her phone, forgetting all about the sigh.
Isabella watched quietly. The cool, distant look on her face drew Evan's eyes again. He couldn't help sneaking a few more glances, but Emily noticed. She leaned forward, just enough to block his view.
"So, how's your schedule tomorrow? Want to grab lunch together?" Emily asked, her voice casual, but her eyes sharp.
"Tomorrow at noon? Yeah, let's do it," Evan said. He sounded almost disappointed about having to break his gaze.
"And tonight?" Emily pressed.
"Not tonight. I've got other plans," Evan shook his head. He'd already made arrangements to meet Jasmine.
"Oh… okay." Emily let it go, changed the subject smoothly, and kept her bright smile in place. But inside, she felt a little let down. She'd caught Evan looking at Isabella more than once. She knew it wasn't exactly a crime—Isabella was beautiful, with that aloof charm that drew people in. Still, it stung. That jealousy was hard to avoid.
Emily held Evan's arm, forcing her smile to stay, even as her thoughts spun in circles.
The waiter came in then, carrying dish after dish. Honestly, for the price, the food looked amazing—beautifully arranged, fragrant, instantly making everyone hungry.
"Um… can I take a picture first?" Rose piped up, raising her hand just as Evan was about to suggest eating.
"Go ahead," Evan said, smiling.
"Hehe, thanks, Evan!" Rose grinned and started taking photos. Jasmine, quiet as ever, hesitated a second, then pulled out her phone and started snapping pictures too.
After Rose finished snapping photos, Evan called everyone to dig in.
Honestly, the place was pricey, but the food? Worth every cent.
Evan kept things lively all through dinner. He tossed out jokes here and there, so the table stayed bright with laughter—nobody sat in silence or felt out of place.
Emily sat next to him. Every so often, she'd quietly serve him food, and when she glanced at Evan, she looked almost proud.
You had to admit, steering the mood like that isn't something just anyone can pull off.
Evan handled it all so smoothly—just a few easy words, and everyone around the table relaxed. He made sure nobody felt awkward or left on the sidelines.
Honestly, it was kind of impressive.
Compare that to their old class gatherings, where the guys barely said a word and everything felt stiff. This was a whole different vibe.
Isabella sat quietly, nibbling at her food. Sometimes she'd glance at Evan, then quickly look away.
She felt a little torn inside.
Truthfully, Evan checked just about every box for her ideal boyfriend.
Too bad, though…
She shook her head, brushed the thought aside, and just focused on eating.
Once the dishes were out of the way, Evan piped up.
"All right, dinner's done. How about we play something before heading out?"
Everyone turned to him.
"What kind of game?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow.
Evan grinned. "There's a board-game café just down the street. I already grabbed us a private table. We can play Werewolf, Truth Dice—you name it."
Rose's eyes went wide. "Wait, you already booked it?"
"Yep," Evan said, like it was no big deal.
Emily, sitting next to him, picked up a glass of water and pressed her fingers to the side. She checked the temperature before sliding it over.
"It's still a little warm," she said, soft but matter-of-fact. "Give it a minute."
She placed it in front of him, not making a fuss.
Rose watched this and couldn't help herself. She let out a low whistle.
"Emily, I never pictured you being this thoughtful just because you got a boyfriend," she teased, half-smiling.
Emily hesitated, then laughed. "Is it that obvious?"
"Oh, it's obvious," Rose shot back. "You used to have that 'too cool to care' attitude. Now look at you—pouring water, checking if it's the right temp. Wild."
She paused, voice dropping a notch. "But honestly… I get it."
After all, Evan wasn't just anyone.
As she spoke, Rose found herself glancing at him.
He sat there, completely at ease—straight-backed, calm, not even trying, but somehow everyone's focus just drifted to him.
Truth be told, it was hard not to feel a pang of envy.
But Rose looked away quickly.
She knew her place.
Someone like Evan—good-looking, confident, so self-assured—he was out of reach.
Meanwhile, Evan seemed totally oblivious to the side glances. He looked around, easygoing as ever
Jasmine watched Emily hover around Evan, and her mouth tightened without her even thinking about it. Deep down, she knew one thing for sure—if she were the one next to him, his girlfriend, she'd do it better than Emily. She'd notice the small things. She'd get him. Honestly, she just fit with him more.
But whatever. That wasn't her spot. At least, not yet.
Soon, though. That thought sent a little jolt through her, something almost electric. After dinner, everything would shift. As she looked down, a tiny smile played at her lips, excitement bubbling just under her skin.
Dinner ended. Plates gone, silverware quiet. The restaurant's hum took over.
Evan glanced at his watch and stood up. "Alright, let's move. The game room's about five minutes away."
Chairs scraped, everyone shuffled up. People grabbed jackets, shoved phones in their pockets. The mood shifted—lighter, maybe even excited, but there was still something hanging in the air no one wanted to say out loud.
They walked out together, letting the warm light from the lobby spill over them before stepping into the cooler night. City lights stretched across the pavement. Street lamps tossed long shadows ahead as they wandered down the sidewalk. Their footsteps didn't quite sync, voices blending and tumbling over each other as they went.
They reached the entrance to the entertainment lounge—a discreet place, glass doors tinted, a small sign glowing softly above.
A staff member waited at the entrance to the game lounge, clipboard ready.
"Evening," he greeted them. "Do you have a reservation, or do you want to book a table?"
Evan grinned. "We've got one. It's under Evan."
The staff member flipped through his list, checked, then nodded. "Found you—right this way."
He led them down a softly lit hallway. Chairs scraped, coats shifted, and the noise from the restaurant faded to a quiet hum. The group shuffled along, voices low.
Soon, they stopped in front of an unmarked door. "Your private lounge is ready. Have a great night," the staff member said, stepping aside.
"Thanks," Evan replied. The group slipped inside, the door closed, and they found themselves surrounded by the warm glow of the game room.
The private lounge belonged to one of those high-end entertainment spots, the kind that promises top-notch service and guards your privacy like a secret.
As soon as they walked in, everyone just stopped for a second.
The place was massive—probably close to a hundred square meters. It had this quiet, modern luxury vibe. Plush sofas surrounded a low marble table, warm lights glowed along the walls, and one side of the room overflowed with board games and card decks. The whole thing felt chill, exclusive, and honestly, pretty pricey.
"Mr. Evan," the attendant said, polite as ever, "these snacks and fruit platters are on the house. And you'll get ten percent off your bill tonight."
Evan's eyebrows went up. He'd never been here before—he definitely hadn't expected them to roll out the red carpet like this.
A discount, in a place with a reputation like this? That was generous.
"Tell your manager thanks," Evan said, nodding.
"Of course." The attendant smiled and slipped out, leaving them alone.
Rose looked around, eyes wide. "This place is huge! I've never seen a private lounge this big—it's bigger than my apartment!"
Jasmine barely made a sound, fingers tightening a little around her phone.
Isabella didn't say anything, but her eyes swept the room, and for a second, even she looked surprised.
She'd done the private lounge thing before—school parties, birthdays—but this was on a whole different level.
Then Rose grinned at Evan. "You know, I always thought Emily's boyfriend would be the lucky one. But now I think Emily's the one winning out being with you."
She didn't mean anything by it—the words just slipped out.
Emily smiled, her hand resting on Evan's arm.
"So—Werewolf or Truth Dice?" Evan leaned back, draping his arm over his chair like he did this every weekend.
That question snapped everyone out of their leftover awkwardness.
"Werewolf!" Rose answered right away, grinning. "You've actually got to think in that one."
Jasmine rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Truth Dice is way better. People spill their secrets in no time."
Isabella shrugged, arms crossed. "Werewolf just drags on. Truth Dice keeps things moving."
Emily caught Evan's eye and couldn't help but smile. "Let's just vote."
"Alright," Evan said. "Majority rules."
Hands shot up. Voices overlapped. Suddenly, the whole table was alive.
"Truth Dice it is!" Rose announced, like she'd just won a prize.
Someone grabbed the dice, rattling them in their palm. The rules were easy—roll, pick a number, tell the truth… or pay the price.
Right away, everyone relaxed. Laughter bubbled up. Teasing came out of nowhere.
Jasmine leaned back, watching Evan from across the table, a little spark in her eyes.
The night was just getting started.
**********