Charlotte: Fated to the White Dragon
Instead, he leads me to a quiet café that seems minimal but disarming.
We take the back corner. His eyes never wander from me, even when ordering.
“Disappointed much?” he asks, the corner of his mouth tilting upward.
“Not really. Just... a bit surprised,” I answer, as the coffee arrives.
He studies me over the rim of his cup. “Tell me, Lynn, do you believe in fate?”
The question throws me off for a moment. “Not particularly. Though… it depends.”
“Meeting three times, doesn’t that suggest we’re fated?”