21!Did he just ask me to dinner?!

Sylvia

I was about to step into the elevator when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around and there he was, Logan, with that same boyish confidence in his stride and an almost too-perfect smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I thought he had left, one of the investors had just called me back up on our way downstairs, and I had to make a u-turn back upstairs. We said our goodbyes, then he walked away. I had seen him walk to his car.

“I thought you had gone?” I asked curiously.

“Ohh, Maryanne called me back up, almost immediately.”

“Okay.”

“Sylvia!” he called out, staring at me blankly.

“Yes”

“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?” he asked, his voice low, a bit hopeful, and surprisingly sincere. “Just the two of us.”

I blinked, caught off guard. After the celebration earlier today and the rush of emotions that came with it, I hadn’t expected anything more. Definitely not… this. “Did he just ask me to dinner?,” I asked myself.

I opened my mouth, my first instinct to say no. I was tired. So tired!. My body ached in places I didn’t know could ache, and all I wanted was my couch, a soft blanket, and silence.

But there was something in the way he looked at me, an openness, an invitation, not just to food, but maybe… to something more. A conversation. A connection. A crack in the armor.

“…Okay,” I said softly, offering a small smile. “Sure.”

Logan’s face lit up. “Yeah? Great. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress however you want, it’s somewhere chill.”

I gave a tired nod and stepped into the elevator, my heart beating a little faster than before.

At 7:05, Logan pulled up outside my house in a sleek, dark sedan. He stepped out, walked around to open the passenger door for me, and gave me a playful half-bow. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

“Wow,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Pulling out all the stops, huh?”

“Only the best for the queen of the hospital,” he quipped.

We slipped into the car, and the ride was surprisingly quiet at first. The gentle hum of the engine and the soft jazz music playing in the background were soothing. I leaned back into the seat, the day’s exhaustion catching up to me in full force.

I meant to make small talk. I really did. But the moment my head touched the cushion, the warmth of the car and the comfort of Logan’s presence lulled me into unconsciousness.

“Sylvie…” Logan’s voice drifted into my ears like a breeze.

I blinked groggily, confused for a moment. The car wasn’t moving. We were parked outside a softly lit restaurant with ivy-covered walls and warm lights glowing through the windows.

Logan was watching me, his elbow on the center console, his fingers resting near mine.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said gently. “We’re here.”

I groaned softly, rubbing my eyes. “Oh my God… Did I actually fall asleep?”

He chuckled. “You did. Out like a light.”

I covered my face, mortified. “I’m so sorry, Logan. That’s so rude of me.”

He waved it off. “Please. Don’t apologize. You’ve had a brutal week. Honestly, I’m flattered you felt comfortable enough to nap in my car.”

I gave him a grateful smile as I reached for the mirror in the visor. “Do I look like someone who just took a car nap?”

“Like a dream,” he said without skipping a beat.

I gave him a look. “Smooth.”

“I try.”

The restaurant was cozy, the kind of place that made you feel like you’d stumbled into a secret tucked away from the chaos of the world. Wooden beams, soft lighting, and the faint scent of rosemary and garlic floated in the air. Logan had picked well.

As we sat down and placed our orders, the conversation began naturally. Surprisingly easy. We talked about our jobs, how the hospital had become more than just a workplace for me. He shared stories from his travels, his early career stumbles, and even a few embarrassing childhood memories.

“So wait,” I said between laughter, “you actually tried to ride a cow?”

“I was six,” he defended. “And it looked like a small horse. I was convinced it was my destiny.”

I shook my head, laughing so hard my side ached. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But I made you laugh,” he said, pointing at me. “Mission accomplished.”

As dessert came, some ridiculously decadent chocolate cake, we eased into quieter topics. Our favorite books. Movies we could rewatch a hundred times. People we missed.

At one point, Logan leaned in, his voice gentler. “You know, I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

I looked up from my fork. “To dinner?”

He nodded. “After everything. The tension. The past. I wouldn’t blame you if you still didn’t want anything to do with me.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “People change. And… I’m still figuring out where we stand.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “I just want you to know, whatever happened before, I’m not here to repeat mistakes. I’m here now. For real.”

The sincerity in his voice made me quiet for a moment. I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t need to. The silence between us was full of something more than words.

“Humm, how did you come to find this restaurant?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“What? Is it because it isn't a five star restaurant?”

“You could say.”

“Well, someone very special to me, had lunch here one day, and since then had always made me bring her here.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I would love to meet that special lady.”

“You would, someday, she is a very sweet, smart and loving girl.”

“That's nice.”

By the time we walked out of the restaurant, the stars were out, the air cool against my skin. Logan opened the car door for me again, and I slipped in with a murmured thanks.

The ride home was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled.

I was so relaxed that somewhere between the turnpike and my street, I drifted off again.

I stirred slightly, feeling motion but not the usual bump of a car. I blinked awake, just enough to realize I was no longer in the passenger seat.

Logan was carrying me.

My head was tucked against his chest, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his shirt. His arms were warm and strong, and I couldn’t bring myself to lift my head.

“You didn’t have to…” I mumbled, still half asleep.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I wanted to.”

He gently opened the front door. Apparently, the maids and butler were still awake. He carried me inside, laying me carefully on the couch.

He was about to stand when I reached out and caught his arm.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said quietly, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He crouched beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Anytime,” he said softly. “You’re welcome, Sylvie. Now go upstairs and rest.”

For a second, neither of us moved. The air was heavy with things unsaid. But then he gave me one last small smile, stood, and walked quietly to the door.

I watched him leave, and even in my exhaustion, I felt it, something shifting. Something opening.

Maybe this wasn’t just dinner.

Maybe it was the start of something neither of us could name yet.