Page 18 of The Spark

I eyed him for a second before shaking my head. "If this is your way of buttering me up, it’s working."

He grinned, stepping out and coming around to open my door again. "Come on, artist. Let’s get you a drink."

Inside, The Blue Room was a whole vibe—warm, dimly lit, the scent of aged whiskey and cigars woven into the air. The music wrapped around us, low and sensual, the hum of conversation blending into the sound of the band. The bartenders moved with practiced ease, pouring top-shelf drinks for patrons lounging in velvet seats. It was elegant but not stiff—alive in a way that made me want to sink into the moment. The energy was smooth, and intimate, the kind of place that made you want to lean in close to whoever you were with.

Amir led me to a small table near the stage, pulling out my chair before settling in across from me.

"So?" he asked, watching as I took in the room.

I nodded, smiling. "I like it."

"Told you."

A waiter stopped by, and Amir ordered for us, already knowing my drink of choice—a lavender lemon drop with a sugared rim, chilled just right. It was the kind of drink that felt like silk and sunshine, a little sweet, a little sharp. For himself, he ordered a neat pour of Yamazaki 12, that smooth Japanese whiskey he always said was underrated.

The familiarity of it sent another pulse of warmth through me, a reminder that no matter how complicated things felt, he knew me. Still did.

As our drinks arrived, Amir lifted his glass, his dark eyes settling on mine. "To you," he murmured. "For your art, your talent… and for being magic."

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his words press into something deep, something unspoken. But then I lifted my glass, tapping it against his. "To us, then. For always knowing exactly how to celebrate."

For a moment, I was sixteen again. Back when Amir landed his first paid gig—DJing a backyard wedding for one of my auntie’s friends. I’d used my allowance to get him a custom snapback with his stage name stitched across the front and made a playlist of his favorite samples that we blasted all the way home.

He wore that cap for months.

I glanced at Amir, but he was already watching me, eyes low, intense, dark with the kind of heat that made my thighs clench beneath the table.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and knowing. "You know this one?"

I nodded slowly, barely finding my voice. "Yeah. Minnie Riperton. Inside My Love."

His lips curved, eyes dragging over my face before dropping briefly—purposefully—lower. "You like it?"

The words felt thick in my throat. Everything about the song wrapped around me, slow and suggestive, pulling fantasies from my mind. Images. His mouth between my legs. My name falling from his lips as he drove into me, deep, thoroughly, like he meant to leave a mark on my soul.

"Yeah," I said softly. "I do."

His gaze didn’t budge. "I can tell."

I looked away, tried to sip my drink like I wasn’t melting on the inside. Like I hadn’t just soaked through my underwear. Like his voice hadn’t just dragged a shiver down my spine.

He leaned back slightly, still watching me. "That chair okay? You keep shifting."

"It’s fine," I lied.

He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Good. Be a shame if you were uncomfortable."

I glared at him, but my body was traitorous, burning under the weight of that teasing, that knowledge.

This wasn’t just a celebration anymore.

This was foreplay. And we were both already undone.

The ride home was quiet.Charged. My heart wouldn’t slow, my thighs still warm from the way Amir had looked at me all night. The way he spoke to me. The way he saw me.

His presence filled the car even in silence, the low hum of the engine and the soft R&B playing through the speakers doing nothing to cut the tension swirling between us. Every glance, every brush of his hand against mine, had left sparks in their wake.

When we pulled into the lot beside my apartment, I didn’t move right away. My fingers toyed with the hem of my dress, nerves buzzing just beneath my skin. I turned to him, a soft, almost hesitant smile playing on my lips. “Thank you. Tonight was…”

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