“Well, this is filet mignon in mushroom sauce with a side of parmesan risotto. It’s halal, too.” He looks down, fiddling with his rings. “I might have asked my mom for help over Skype.”

I can’t help but awwww. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Ace says. There’s a hint of pink to his cheeks that causes a pang in my chest. “She loves cooking, so she was happy to help.”

He pulls out my chair and gestures for me to sit down. “Bone apple teeth, madame.”

I burst into laughter. “Bone apple teeth? You’re so weird.”

Ace shrugs. “You like it.”

“Strangely enough, I do,” I say, lowering my gaze to my plate. The food smells delicious. It’s fancier than anything I’ve ever eaten before. “Bone apple teeth, sir.”

He asks about my ride here as we start our meal and I can’t help poking fun at the fact his family has a driver. He takes it gracefully, which is more than I expected. I didn’t think he’d throw a fit or anything, but seeing him laugh it off is a pleasant surprise.

As I’m spreading my napkin across my lap, Ace taps my wrist. I look up to see him watching me, eyes bright. “You’re the loveliest flower in this entire garden.”

Laughter spills from my lips. “Is that right? Aren’t you just the smooth talker?”

Ace’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “The smoothest.”

Without thinking about it, I lean forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. “You’ve wooed me,” I tease.

He catches my wrist and holds me there, suspended. “Wooed? I’ve wooed you?”

I pout at him halfheartedly. “I was trying to be nice and this is what I get—”

“No, no, I like it,” he says, playing with the cuff of my sleeve. “That’s going to be my job from now on. To always woo you. Expect to be wooed frequently and as often as possible.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say affectionately, pulling back my wrist. “I think you overestimate your prowess.”

“Don’t use SAT words,” Ace says, nudging me underneath the table with his foot.

I slant him a look. “Prowess isn’t an SAT word.”

“It is,” he insists. “I saw it in a workbook the other day.”

I falter. Last I heard, Ace wasn’t taking the SATs. “Why were you practicing?”

Ace falls silent, and his jaw tenses. I reach over to gently touch his hand.

He looks down at our fingers and exhales. “I’ve been thinking a lot...and I don’t want to throw away my future.”

My eyes widen. “So, you’re going to take the SATs? You’re going to apply to NYU?”