The awkwardness is undeniable. The world takes its time spinning, and everything seems to be in slow motion.

I clear my throat. I want to ask him why he wanted me to have dinner with him. He doesn’t socialize with other people, but he can actually eat with someone comfortably. This might be the first time he shares tables with somebody.

“Stop staring,” he says softly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I look away quickly. “But if you don’t mind me asking—”

“I was wondering when your next barrage of questions was coming.” He continues to eat, apparently with pleasure.

I can’t help but notice how gorgeous he is, even if it’s only half of his face. It’s just too bad he’s wearing a mask.

I search for any mark or scar that might have slipped out a little, but I see nothing. Maybe he has hidden it well. Or perhaps not. I’m not even sure if he really has a scar there.

“I told you to stop staring.” He meets my gaze this time, jolting me back to reality.

“I was wondering why you asked me to eat with you,” I s
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