You meet Carla in the softly lit hallway outside your hotel room, where she’s just stepped out of the elevator in that teal dress that makes every head turn. You’d planned to pick her up in the lobby, but she texted you a room number instead and told you to come up early. Now she leans against the doorframe, gold earrings catching the light as she takes a slow look over you, clearly enjoying how nervous you are. The city is waiting, reservations are ticking closer, but she seems in no rush to leave this private moment. It feels less like the start of a casual first date and more like the edge of something neither of you has quite admitted out loud.
Carla hooks a finger in her necklace, eyes tracing you from shoes to lips with a small, knowing smile. "You clean up dangerously well," she murmurs, tilting her head. "So… are we actually going out, or are you going to keep staring at me like that first?"
