Bistro 313 Novels & Stories

I guess everyone used the weekend to unwind. I parked my car in front of a bistro. I glanced at the clock, which read 12:00 pm. When I opened the door, I was amazed at how different the interior was from the outside. I was immediately struck by the scent of caramelized onions and sizzling burgers as soon as I entered Fonzie Bistro. I picked a window seat at the farthest corner so I could easily notice when Conan came in. I sent a quick text to Conan to let him know where I was.

“W-Where are we going?” “Aren’t you hungry? Obviously, we’re getting you some food.” With the light on Gerald’s back as he reached out, he looked like an angel descending from heaven. North was instantly won over, so she got into his car without thinking. As Gerald drove, he took her on a series of confusing turns into an unassuming alley. North was confused. “Where are we eating?” “Southern Bistro,” Gerald replied nonchalantly. North put down her phone and gulped. “The Southern Bistro that only serves one group of customers a day and opens whenever they feel like it? We’re probably too late.”

Students milled about between cafes. People walked hand-in-hand under strings of pretty decorative lights strung across the streets. Crestfield felt quite different in the evenings. Less academic. More vibrant. The Bell & Brick Bistro was located in the corner of an old red-brick building that overlooked a little town square. It wasn’t fancy. It certainly wasn’t expensive. It just had personality. Glowing lights could be seen through the large windows, boxes of flowers were located under each window. Beautiful jazz music flowed out of the restaurant’s door each time it opened.

Laura's POV: It was a typical Wednesday evening at Bistro's restaurant when I sat down at the dinner table opposite Reiner. I had been very uncomfortable with tonight's dinner arrangement, but Reiner insisted we eat out. I had messaged him earlier to let him know I'd like us to have a talk. Reiner was as excited as a child about to receive a candy. He made reservations at Bistro's, an Italian restaurant in Sun island and even rode me to the restaurant in his own Rolls-Royce Cullinan.

NO WORDS could begin to depict what Doris was feeling at the moment, seated at one of the tables at Le Bistro Chabots, awaiting anxiously for Brad to walk in. Le Bistro Chabot was a sight to behold, with its high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and plush velvet upholstery. The dark wood floors and paneling gave the restaurant a timeless elegance, while the large windows overlooking the Parisian streets added a touch of modernity. The tables were adorned with crisp white linens and sparkling crystal, and the waiters bustled about in neat uniforms. The atmosphere was one of sophistication and refinement, with the gentle buzz of conversation and the soft clink of silverware on china adding to the

The host’s eyes flick over it, and she nods, wordlessly motioning for me to follow her. The inside of the bistro is dimly lit, with dark hardwood floors and walls decorated with black and white photos of various places in Seattle. I can smell garlic, seared meat, and expensive wine. My guide stops at the last table, set against the wall in a dim corner. It's hidden away enough that most of the other patrons won't be able to see us. Sitting at the table is a man I immediately know to be D. Vale. He looks up as we approach, and our eyes meet, sending a shock through me. I stop walking, staring at him, dumbstruck.

Sometimes Maddie wondered if he was simply oblivious to the ladies' stares or he was aware but just didn't care. "I will have your smoked brisket chili, St. Louis ribs and pineapple coleslaw. Then for drinks, I'll go with a mocktail." Drew closed the menu and looked at her. "Let me guess…something greasy." She grinned. "Hater." "At least we can be sure that this bistro offers fares that are sure to be belly filling." "Knock it off." She chuckled. "Are you trying to embarrass me or something?" Aiden looked at Drew then at her and then back at Drew. "Now I'm curious."

*** “Miss Steffy, we're here.” Bastian told Stella. The Rodriguez family car has parked perfectly in front of the lobby of the luxury restaurant La Vida. Stella looked at the exquisite building in front of her eyes in awe. “Is this the La Vida restaurant, Bastian?” “That's right, Miss,” Bastian replied, he followed the direction of Stella's eyes. “This place is a La Vida restaurant located in Birmingham Square, as you say.” Stella did not respond to Bastian's remarks. She felt ashamed as well as not confident.

But I stood by and watched my best friend kill it with the crowd, signing his cookbooks, taking photos with fans, and peddling five thousand units of that ridiculous kit, before we all succumbed to the after-party at Pete's restaurant, Mikasa, over Bryant Park, a rooftop eatery he launched last year in honor of his wife, who yearned—sit down for this—fish fingers. The bistro itself was a more contemporary, but not sleek, environment than La Vie en Rogue's, with cracked turquoise marble as flooring, reduced lighting, and a entire semitransparent wall serving as an aquarium home to some of the world's most colorful, most exotic fish. Dark, sexy, moody.

I nodded, feeling enthusiastic, “Yes, Dylan, I've been wanting to try it. I've heard great things about the restaurant near the museum. Would you like to try it out?” “Of course. I'll go with whatever you choose.” “You're free to bring other options .” “No, there's no need. Let's go to Bistro Bliss. It'll be great if we try them out.” With that, he accelerated, increasing the speed of the car. I stared at the windshield, watching the blur of buildings and trees as we drove past them. Dylan finally parked at the side of the road. I looked up and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of the cozy luxurious restaurant which was adorned with vintage Italian posters.