As their hands pulled apart, Lucas glanced down at his own palm, rubbing his fingers. A strange, almost electric sensation lingered where Enzo had touched him.
He murmured under his breath, almost to himself, "Even his touch feels majestic…"
"Well, aren't you just adorable," Enzo teased, leaning slightly toward him. "Are you a regular here?"
Lucas gave a nod, extended his hand towards his glass, and twirled the last drops of the liquid within. "Yeah, I come here maybe three or four times a week," he said, sighing. "Depends on how depressing the week is."
"I see. And how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Twenty-two," he answered. "What about you?"
"Why don't you take a guess?"
Lucas squinted, studying him for a moment before his eyes flicked down to his empty glass. "Hmm… Twenty-six?"
"Maybe." Enzo shrugged. Lifting his hand, he signaled the bartender. "Refill this handsome guy's glass with champagne, please."
