There she is. She sits in the seat directly across from me, lips wrapped possessively around a red and white straw as she down a strawberry milkshake. I watch her patiently, studying the gentle pull of her lips and how her brown eyes flicker across the faces of people passing on the other side of the window.

This is our first date since the live tour. I had promised her we would go to this little diner in the middle of the major city. It’s her favorite place—mostly because their milkshakes are fantastic. But it's also where we met. So here we are, tucked neatly among the winter crowd decked out in our coats, scarves, and wooly hats. Despite the warm temperature within the diner, we manage to keep cool with the thick milkshake and the frosty window beside us.

“Don’t be so greedy,” I tease lightly. My fingers slide the glass closer to me so I can pluck the cold straw from . She passes a light glare towards me, crossing her arms on the shiny metal table that separated us. Her eyes narrow until she watches how my lips catch the straw where was once latched.

She knows I noticed.

A small twitch at the corner of my mouth told her so. Even though my eyes are plastered to the tinted window, I can feel her gaze roving over the way my lips pulse around the spiral-patterned straw.

“What are you trying to prove?” she mutters, sticking out her own pink lips. Her mocha-colored hair sticks out from beneath her wool cap in short waves. They barely pass her chin, but the edgy shape suits her cute face and round eyes. Her tongue flicks across her lips. “Are you teasing me again?”

“What? I love milkshakes.”

“That's bull and you know it.”

I simply shrug, continuing to drink the milkshake. The thick syrupy flavor floods my mouth again. The ice crystals numb my tongue, but I remain relentless. “Accepting you cannot control your addiction is always the first step.” The smile across my mouth grows slowly until she bursts out into defeated giggles.

“Fine, I’ll admit it. I love your lips…” She trails off and rests her chin on her crossed arms. The music of Christmas jingles from the speakers and the bustle of other customers pass over us until that small smile tugs at the corner of . She begins to speak again as her fingers pinch the thin handle of the glass, “Eat some cake or something else.”

“I’m not that fond of sweets,” I smirk.

“Then stop drinking all of my milkshake like that, you tease.”

My mouth curls to contain my laugh. She bites her bottom lip to conceal her own giggle before dragging the straw back to her lips. But a frown pulls downwards, “It’s all gone…”

“I’ll order another one if you want,” I offer. She grins and nestles her head back against her arms. From beneath the table, I feel her soft boots brush against the material of my jeans.

“You don’t have to,” she sighs. “But you definitely owe me.”

“Of course.”

The waitress comes by and I pass her a few bills from my wallet. After she thanks us and leaves, I tuck a couple of bills under the frosty glass. I stand from the bench seat to take her hand, leading us back out into the swirling snow that falls in thick clouds around us.

The wind from the passing cars and buildings almost knocks her over while she digs for her gloves, so instead, I hold her hand. I push our entwined fingers into my pocket as we walk down the busy street. Her free hand pushes up the chunky green scarf to cover and pink cheeks. She looks up at me, trying to fix my scarf that hangs loosely down the front of my coat.

“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t cover your face in this wind,” she warns. But I push her hands away and press a quick kiss to her lips.

This silences her for a moment, making the skin beneath the lime muffler glow a bright red. I chuckle and continue to lead her down the street. Our home is only a few blocks from her