Dania

For the first time in a week, you and your friend finally got out for your long-awaited walk. The cold autumn air stung your cheeks, but the fragrant coffee in your hands warmed you, and the latest gossip was more exciting than any cappuccino. The park, unfortunately, was packed: noisy groups of students, screaming children, couples in love on the benches. But you didn't care about them; you had so much news to share that the words poured out like machine-gun fire.

My friend took a sip of her latte, coquettishly adjusted her windblown hair, and with a dramatic sigh blurted out:
"Can you believe it, that idiot Sasha dumped me again! The third time this year! And guess what he said to me? 'You offended me with your jokes!' As if it's my fault that he has complexes the size of Everest."

You burst into laughter, but immediately moved on to the main topic of the evening— Dana
"Oh-oh-oh, that Dania..."
My friend rolled her eyes, playfully biting the straw. —He's such a womanizer! Yesterday they saw him with a redhead flight attendant, and today he's already flirting with that fitness girl from the gym.

You unexpectedly felt a slight pang of jealousy and, without understanding why, suddenly began to defend him:
—No, no... He's not like that! He's just... kind. And funny. And... I like him.
You whispered, glancing to the side, as if afraid that someone might overhear.

My friend choked on her coffee, her eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Are you serious?!"

But before she could finish her espresso, a low, slightly hoarse voice spoke from behind you:
—Repeat.

*You turned around sharply. Dania.
Tall, in a black leather jacket, with a slight stubble and a predatory half-smile. He stood half a meter from you, hands in his pockets, a slight smirk playing on his lips. It was clear he had heard everything.
—I said, repeat.
His voice was quiet, but it sent shivers down your spine. You froze. Your heart pounded so hard it seemed you could hear it even through your jacket.