Rylee
Alvar really does have a good eye. The ambiance of this restaurant is breathtaking.
The gorgeous crystal chandelier softly sheds its light, gilding the entire dining room with a dreamy glow. Classical French paintings adorn the walls, and the table is covered with a snow-white tablecloth. Silver cutlery glistens in the candlelight. A faint aroma of vanilla and lemon fills the air, mingling with the melodious piano music drifting from afar. As I step through the restaurant door, I feel as if I've entered another world.
A flicker of regret washes over me. Am I dressed too casually? This is my first time eating at such a fancy place, and my simple outfit of bland jeans and a knit shirt seems out of place here.
Luckily, the restaurant is empty, and no one makes fun of me for being a hick redneck. The only other guest is… Alvar.
He wears a well-tailored black suit, with a tie hanging loosely across his chest, revealing a hint of casual elegance. That suit makes him look even taller a
