Damien PoV
I smiled as I escorted Shelly to the museum's café, the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows and casting a warm, golden glow across the polished floors. Her excitement over the paintings and statues had been a delight to watch, a spark that lit up the usually quiet halls of the National Art Museum. The golden card in my pocket felt like more than just a privilege today—it was a key to sharing something personal with her, a chance to bridge the gap between our distant family ties and this unexpected afternoon together.
The café came into view, a cozy nook near the main entrance with small round tables and a counter displaying an array of sandwiches and pastries. The rich scent of coffee and fresh bread wafted toward us, and I noticed Shelly's pace quicken slightly, a telltale sign of her growing hunger. I suppressed a grin, anticipating the moment her stomach would betray her. Sure enough, as we neared the counter, a loud growl broke the silence, and I couldn't hold back a snicker.
She jabbed me on the side with her elbow and grumbled. "Stop laughing and just order."
"Alright, alright," I said, raising my hands in surrender, though my red eyes still sparkled with mischief. "No need to get violent. What do you want? My treat.
She hesitated for a moment, still puffing her cheeks slightly, then relented. "Turkey and cheese sandwich, with fruit on the side," she said, her tone softening as the hunger won out over her embarrassment.
I nodded. "Okay." I turned toward the barista in the cash register. "I'll like two turkey sandwiches and a chai latte with horchata soft top."
Shelly's ears perked up. She tugged on my sleeve. "I want one too."
Chuckling, I told the barista to get me two.
We found an empty table and settled down, Shelly's gaze flitting between the incoming sandwiches, and her attention occasionally drawn to the distant murmur of visitors and the rhythmic tap of footsteps against the polished marble.
"This place has great food and coffee," I said, leaning forward. "They're the second best I've ever visited. You know, the best one is actually a tiny coffee shop nearby, but it's usually super crowded."
"It is? Why?" she asked.
"Well, the food there's super cheap and affordable and the taste is really something else. You'd love it. They even have cat to pet."
She hummed. "Where exactly is it?"
"It's in the inner city," I replied, taking out my phone to show her the place on Maps.
"Oh, I know this area! It's the cat cafe a few blocks away from the dinner I used to work at. I didn't even realize they served lunch. Should've saved myself some more money and bought those."
"Ah," I sighed, smiling. "I'm glad to know you're no stranger to it." I turned the phone around and scrolled through the pictures of its menu and its fluffy cats on the official site.
She smiled as she saw them, her blue eyes alight. "Aw, they're so cute!" She pouted and looked at me with a hint of a puppy-dog-plea expression.
I chuckled, catching the hint. "I guess we're going there tomorrow."
Shelly grinned, a glint in her eye as if I'd fallen right into her trap. "I'll bring Toren along."
I chuckled. "Knowing him, he might try hugging all the cats until he gets scratched."
"That does sound like him."
I nodded. "If you two like it, then we can visit that place anytime it's not too busy."
Her smile softened into gratitude, as if my offer was the most thoughtful thing she'd ever received. Her hand brushed against mine for a brief moment. "Thank you, that would mean a lot."
I grinned as the fresh hot sandwiches and our chai lattes were placed in front of us, a scent of coffee, spices, and warmth hanging in the air. "Now, how about we eat?"
She eagerly unwrapped the sandwich and took a large bite, the savory mix of turkey and melted cheese perfectly complemented by the crunch of fresh lettuce.
"So good," she sighed after she finished it all up in the blink of an eye.
I snickered and took a bit of my own sandwich, relishing the medley of flavors that burst on my tongue with every bite. Even eating with her was entertaining. She didn't care much for decorum and manners. But there wasn't much to be worried about anyway, seeing as how her manners weren't crude, just more on the common side.
"Hmm, Damien?" a familiar voice called out, causing me to freeze. Slowly, I turned to look at the brown haired girl. My eyes widened as I looked at her. It was her. My ex-girlfriend.
Shelly paused mid-bite into a large chunk of sandwich, glancing between the new arrival and me. "Friend of yours?"
I looked down at the table, suddenly finding the remaining sandwich crust far more intriguing than meeting anyone's gaze. Why was Alicia here of all places? She always found this museum to be boring, preferring the arcade and dance clubs.