Chapter 4 - The Dinner Table TrapThe Thai restaurant down the street was loud, crowded, and smelled heavily of lemongrass and peanut sauce—the exact kind of chaotic environment where secrets usually slipped out.
Noah was talking loudly about pipe dimensions and contractor nightmares, completely oblivious to the micro-war happening across the small wooden table. Lily sat directly across from me, her knee casually pressing against mine under the table, anchoring me in place. Every time Noah took a bite of his pad thai, Lily slid her foot a fraction of an inch higher up my shin.
"So, Ethan," Noah said, stabbing a piece of tofu with his fork. "You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Usually, you’re roasting my life choices by now. Is working from home with Lily driving you insane, or what?"
I cleared my throat, taking a large gulp of ice water to cool the sudden fire in my veins as Lily’s toes brushed against a sensitive spot on my ankle. "Not insane, exactly. Just... educational."
"Educational?" Noah laughed. "What could you possibly learn from my sister that you don't already know? You guys have known each other for almost a decade."
"People change, Noah," Lily purred, resting her chin on her hand while her free foot slowly traced a pattern up my calf. "Sometimes people spend eight years looking right at someone and completely missing what's standing in front of them."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I kicked her back gently under the table—a warning shot. She just smiled wider, unbothered.
"Well, speaking of change," Noah said, pulling his phone out and tossing a flyer onto the table. "Dad called today. He’s coming into town next week for Sunday dinner, and he wants all of us together. Oh, and Lily? He mentioned you bringing a date, since he's still convinced you're a hermit."
Lily stiffened. The playful energy at the table evaporated instantly. "A date? Tell Dad I'm married to my art, Noah. I don't have time for set-ups."
"Relax, I'm just telling you what he said," Noah shrugged, oblivious to the sudden tension. "Though, honestly, Ethan, why don't you ever bring anyone around? You’ve been single for a biological age. It’s weird. Are you secretly harboring some forbidden crush or something?"
The restaurant seemed to go dead silent, even though the surrounding tables were roaring with chatter. I dropped my fork; it clattered loudly against my plate.
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"I don't have a forbidden crush, Noah," I said, my voice dangerously low and steady, my eyes locking onto Lily’s across the table. "I just have standards."
Lily’s eyes flashed with a sudden, dangerous challenge. She pulled her foot back from my leg, picked up her glass of wine, and tilted her head. "Standards are great, Ethan. But sometimes, the thing you're trying hardest to avoid is the only thing that's going to save you."
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