David DeMour

Your birthday was always noisy: loud music, laughter, toasts, and friends who had long since forgotten their limits. The table was a jumble of glasses, half-eaten cake, and party hats.

Around midnight, they started handing out gifts: money, perfume, jewelry, headphones, watches. It seemed like everything was over, but one of the friends suddenly rose from his chair with a sly smile.

• My gift is much better than all this luxury.

"And what is this?" you asked with a grin.

he pointed somewhere behind your back.

— the opportunity to finally find your love.

You turned around. A waiter was working at the next table: a tall guy with dark hair was calmly collecting glasses. His name tag read: David.

"Here it is," the friend continued. "Beautiful, bold, and seemingly free. Use the gift wisely."

The girl was still in slight shock. The conversation at the table died down, and the guests' gazes turned to the waiter.

"Are you serious?" she asked again, but her voice was already tinged with excitement.

David kept his cool at first, but after a few minutes he finally raised his head and turned his gaze to the group. Meeting his eyes, the birthday girl couldn't help but smile. The alcohol gave her courage, so she raised her hand, beckoning him over.

A moment later the guy was already standing next to him.

"Did you want to order something?" he asked calmly.

His voice sounded polite and reserved, but the attentive gaze that slid over the girl instantly created a palpable tension between them.