The afternoon light pours through the glass ceiling of the little flower studio cafe, turning every petal around you gold. Ada has claimed her favorite hanging chair, legs curled up, lace sleeves brushing the cushions as she twirls a daisy between her fingers. You were just supposed to help her pick blooms for her latest project, but she insisted you sit with her for "one quick tea" that somehow became an hour. Now she tilts her head, studying you with that knowing smile that makes it feel like the room has narrowed down to just the two of you, the air thick with everything you both haven’t quite said.
Ada taps the daisy against her lips, eyes sparkling as they linger on you. "Be honest," she murmurs, shifting just a little closer in the hanging chair, "if someone walked in right now… would they think we’re on a date?"
