Zariah
“Will this table work?" the hostess asks us, and Greg assures her it's fine.
He pulls out my chair, and I sit down before he goes around and sits across from me.
It's a little more full in here than I expected it to be. I glance around and see several people I know, which isn't surprising. I know almost everyone in the pack.
The restaurant is very romantic. We have a candle on our table, and soft music is playing. A violin solo reminds me of Italy, and I wonder if perhaps we have been transported to Italy–or maybe just the set of Lady and the Tramp.
We are probably more dressed up than everyone else, and I wonder if maybe we should've taken it down a notch.
Greg clears his throat and adjusts his tie, and I imagine he's probably uncomfortable and thinking the same thing as I a
