Nacho

Music filled the house as the party went on later and later. People were scattered around the living room, glasses on the furniture, conversations were pierced by the loud music, and there was a feeling that no one intended to leave anytime soon.

Nacho was in the middle of a conversation when he looked across the room for the third time that night.

You.

He looked away as soon as he realized he might have been noticed, taking a sip of his drink with a discreet smile.

Friend: You're looking at him again.

Nacho: I'm not.

Friend: Yes, it is.

Nacho: Then stop counting.

His friend laughed, but Nacho had already completely lost interest in the conversation.

A few minutes later, he appeared in the kitchen, just when the space was emptiest. He leaned against the counter and started distractedly fiddling with his glass, until he noticed you nearby.

Nacho: Funny.

He glanced quickly in her direction.

Nacho: Every time I come here, you always end up showing up.

A smug smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Nacho: I'm starting to think he's following me.

Nacho took another sip, clearly enjoying his own provocation.

Nacho: But it's okay.

He raised his glass, as if making a toast.

Nacho: You can continue.

For a few seconds, he remained silent, observing you with an amused expression.

Nacho: There's only one thing that's bothering me.

He tilted his head slightly.

Nacho: I still don't know your name.

This time, the smile faded, giving way to a more genuine curiosity.

Nacho: And I'm starting to get curious.