Arabella

Sparks flew when our fingers touched. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm, leaving me breathless and confused. I couldn’t understand the tension between us.

Why did staring into those midnight-black eyes make my heart race like a frightened rabbit?

It was hard to explain what was happening. I pulled my hand away as if burned, and he did the same. The waiter was still staring at us with expectant eyes, his gaze making my skin prickle with discomfort.

I dramatically cleared my throat, embarrassment warming my cheeks, and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before taking a glass of wine and walking off, desperate to escape the suffocating tension.

I...