Rachael slid into the empty space beside Kyle with a flash of a bright—if slightly forced—smile.
She had rehearsed this moment a dozen times in her head, but now that it was happening, her throat felt dry and her heart thudded like a war drum in her chest.
Kyle turned his head slightly, casting her a curious glance. His gaze was steady, unreadable as always.
But Rachael didn't let herself falter. Instead, she slid a small clay bottle toward him, its cap still sealed with wax.
"I thought you looked a little lonely. And you looked like you needed something good to drink."
She said, voice lighter than she felt.
She offered the bottle with both hands like it was an offering to a god.
Kyle's eyes drifted to the bottle and then back to her face.
"Trying to get me drunk? That's bold, Rachael."
He asked with the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his lips.
Her eyes widened, and she immediately waved her hands.
