Chapter Two-Hundred Seventy-Nine: The Scenic Detour

Chapter 279

The Scenic Detour

Lena and Fabien sat under a sakura tree. She gazed into his green eyes as she placed her slender hands on his chest.

Lena: “Fabien, it’s my first time…”

She moaned.

Fabien: “I’ll go gentle with you…”

He murmured, and the two deeply kissed. He was on top of her, as his hand slid up her dress, his fingers moving in a circular motion over her panties. Lena’s breath hitched.

Lena: “Oh, Fabien, you’re so aggressive.”

Fabien grinned and, with a flick of his wrist, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans.

Suddenly, they heard Abraham yelling.

~

Lena snapped her eyes open to see her grandfather standing over her bed. Lena looked down to see her nightgown had slid down to expose her brown nipple. She gasped and pulled the sheets up.

Abraham: “Are you going to lie there moaning or are you gonna make me breakfast?”

He rasped.

Lena: “S-Sorry, Grandpa. I’ll get to it.”

She stammered.

Abraham: “You worked faster when Jordi was here. Where did that fat lady go anyway? Get her back here! You and your brother never do anything around this house!”

He snapped. Lena wiped her eyes, trying not to cry. She drew a pink robe around herself. Abraham gazed at her and smirked.

~

The steam from the shower still clung to Lena’s skin as she stepped into her bedroom, her mind drifting toward the evening. A small smile played on her lips at the thought of seeing Fabien at the restaurant later. She knew she was supposed to meet up with the girls and take the bus for a shopping trip, but she had other plans. She wasn’t going to let anything distract her today.

She stood before her mirror and reached for a new set of lingerie she’d been saving. She carefully pulled on the baby pink bra and matching panties, smoothing the delicate fabric. A tiny satin ribbon sat perfectly at the center of the bust, a soft detail that gave her a sudden surge of confidence. She caught her reflection and breathed out slowly, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

She then reached for a pastel pink floral dress, carefully pulling it over her head. The fabric felt light against her skin, and she adjusted the V-neckline and the delicate angel sleeves so they draped perfectly. The hem fell just to her knees, swaying slightly as she moved. Turning back to her vanity, she gathered the top section of her hair and secured it in a half-ponytail, clipping it back with a small butterfly clip. She applied a light layer of makeup to enhance her features and finished with a quick dab of cotton-candy scented perfume behind her ears, feeling completely prepared for the evening ahead.

Lena grabbed her butterfly purse and put it over her shoulder. She went out to the foyer and to the porch where she slid her feet into her white butterfly heels. She stepped out to join the girls and catch the bus downtown.

~

As the bright yellow bus rumbled around the corner, Lena felt a sudden, sharp tug in her chest. She looked at Madelyn and Ashley, who were already chatting excitedly about tickling and stuff to get at the mall, but all Lena could think about was the warm, rhythmic sound of Fabien’s voice. The thought of spending hours in crowded fitting rooms felt suffocating compared to the possibility of a quiet evening at the restaurant.

Lena: “Oh! Wait!”

She said, stopping short just as the bus doors creaked open. Her friends turned, confused.

Lena: “I just remembered—I promised my grandpa I’d pick up some specific... medicine for his joints downtown. I can’t go to the mall today. I’m so sorry!”

Before they could protest or offer to go with her, Lena gave a quick, apologetic wave and started backing away toward the sidewalk.

Lena: “Have fun! I’ll call you later!”

As the bus pulled away, Lena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A thrill of pure, rebellious excitement surged through her. She wasn’t going to the mall; she was going to see him. Instead of waiting for the next downtown shuttle, she decided to walk. The evening air was soft, and with every click of her white butterfly heels against the pavement, her heart beat a little faster. She felt light, almost as if she were floating, her mind already racing ahead to the moment she would step through the doors of Danny Donger’s.

~

Lena stepped inside, smoothing the hem of her dress. Her heart gave a sudden, nervous flutter at the thought of seeing Fabien in his server uniform. Taking a small breath to steady herself, she walked up to the front podium.

Janine Fleming stood behind the host stand, tapping a pencil against a leather seating chart. She looked up and gave Lena a welcoming, professional smile.

Janine: “Good evening! Welcome to Danny Donger’s! Just one for tonight, hon?”

Lena clasped her hands in front of her dress, her cheeks warming slightly.

Lena: “Hi, yes, just me. Um, actually... is Fabien on the floor tonight? Could I possibly get a table in his section?”

Janine glanced down at her floor map, a knowing, amused spark in her eye as she noted the request.

Janine: “He sure is. He just cleared a booth over by the side wall.”

She grabbed a laminated menu and gestured with a welcoming wave.

Janine: “Follow me, I’ll set you right up in his area.”

Lena offered a shy, grateful smile, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she followed Janine through the dining room toward Fabien’s section.

She slid into a quiet booth along the perimeter, nervously smoothing down the lace hem of her dress while trying—and completely failing—to look nonchalant. Fabien noticed her right away. Tucking his order pad into his pouch, he glided over with his signature relaxed swagger, the green sneakers nearly silent against the floor.

Fabien: “Well, look who decided to drop by.”

He said smoothly, offering a warm, easygoing smile as he leaned lightly against the booth divider.

Fabien: “Hey, Lena. What brings you to Danny Donger’s on a Friday night?”

Lena’s cheeks instantly flushed a faint, rosy pink. Her eyes flicked up to his wavy white hair, then briefly down across his toned, bare chest and signature emerald shorts, before she quickly snapped her gaze back to his face. She tucked a purple lock behind her ear, her heart doing an undeniable flutter under his melodic French accent.

Lena: “Oh, you know... just out and about around the city…”

She replied, trying her best to sound casual, though a slight, nervous edge gave away her massive crush.

Lena: “Figured I’d stop in for a treat.”

Fabien: “Always a good idea…”

He chuckled, resting one hand on his hip.

Fabien: “So, what are you craving tonight?”

Lena glanced at the colorful specialty menu, tapping her manicured nails against the table before looking up at him with a shy, sweet smile.

Lena: “Can I get a Unicorn Float, please?”

Fabien: “One Unicorn Float, coming right up.”

He smiled, clicking his pen with a quick, fluid motion, jotting her order down.

Fabien: “Cotton-candy soda, scoops of blue-raspberry and strawberry ice cream, extra whipped cream, and rainbow sprinkles, right?”

Lena: “With extra cherries, if that's okay…”

She added, leaning forward with an eager, hopeful look in her Byzantine eyes.

Fabien: “For you? I’ll make sure it’s piled high.”

He said with an effortless, friendly wink.

Fabien: “Hang tight, Lena, I’ll have that whipped up for you in just a minute.”

As Fabien pivoted smoothly to head to the bar, Lena rested her chin in her hands, her eyes following his every stride across the floor with an enchanted, starry-eyed sigh.

Fabien returned carrying a tall, chilled soda-fountain glass on a small round tray. The Unicorn Float was a pastel masterpiece: vibrant swirls of sky-blue and cotton-candy pink bubbling under thick scoops of strawberry and blue-raspberry ice cream, topped with a towering swirl of whipped cream, a shower of rainbow sprinkles, and three bright red maraschino cherries perched on top.

He glided over to Lena’s booth with his signature light-footed grace and lowered the treat onto a coaster before her.

Fabien: “One deluxe Unicorn Float, complete with extra cherries.”

He announced smoothly, offering a warm, easy smile. He slotted a long-handled stainless spoon and a pink-and-white striped straw into the glass.

Lena’s eyes lit up as she leaned over the table, her hands folding neatly in front of her light blue floral dress.

Lena: “Wow, Fabien... it looks amazing!”

Fabien: “Only the best presentation for our VIP guests.”

He chuckled, resting one hand casually on his hip. His green eyes had an easy, friendly warmth that made Lena’s cheeks flush a faint rosy pink all over again.

Fabien: “Take your time enjoying it. Are you thinking about grabbing some fries or snacks later, or just sticking to sweet stuff tonight?”

Lena: “Just this for now.”

She said softly, dipping the long spoon into the whipped cream to snag a cherry. She looked up through her lashes with a shy, enchanted grin.

Lena: “Thanks, Fabien. You’re the best.”

Fabien: “Happy to help.”

He replied with a relaxed, disarming wink.

Fabien: “Just wave me down if you need anything else, Lena.”

With a smooth pivot, Fabien turned back toward the bustling Friday night dining room, leaving Lena happily twirling her straw, completely captivated by both the sweet float and the handsome waiter who served it.

Lena dipped her spoon into the sweet foam, taking a delicate bite of strawberry ice cream as she watched Fabien effortlessly weave his way across the dining room floor. Her eyes lingered on his relaxed stride, the way his wavy white hair caught the green and magenta glow of the neon bar signs, and how completely, ridiculously handsome he looked even in simple running shorts and tube socks.

Her stomach gave a quiet, treacherous little rumble. The savory smell of garlic fries and crispy onion rings wafting from a passing tray was mouthwatering, and for a split second, she had genuinely considered asking him for a basket of cheese fries to go with her drink.

No way, Lena scolded herself internally, instantly pulling her hands back to smooth down her dress. You cannot order a greasy mountain of fries right after asking for a giant, sugary float. What if he thinks you’re a total pig? She wondered.

The mere thought of Fabien looking at her order pad and judging her appetite made her cheeks burn hot. She pictured him laughing about it in that smooth French accent, and she immediately resolved to stay on her absolute best behavior.

One float. Just the float, she decided firmly, taking a demure sip through her pink striped straw. Keep it cute, keep it dainty. You’re just a girl enjoying a sweet summer treat, nothing more, she thought.

She looked over the menu and saw they served salads with Italian, ranch, honey mustard, or French. The thought struck her so suddenly that a quiet, giddy snicker slipped past her lips. A garden salad—delicate, dainty, and completely safe—topped with creamy, tangy French dressing. It felt like the ultimate private joke, a silly little nod to Fabien.

She quickly covered her mouth with both hands to stifle another wave of giggles, her shoulders bouncing slightly, as she tried to compose herself, her cheeks still radiating warmth. It was hopelessly cheesy, but the idea thrilled her, and she proudly tapped the salad section on the menu.

Fabien approached her table with a smile.

Fabien: “Ready to order, or are you satisfied with just the float?”

Lena closed her menu with a quiet, decisive snap, though the blush across her cheeks betrayed her lingering excitement. She looked up at Fabien, clasping her hands tightly in front of her on the table.

Lena: “I think I’m ready…”

She said, trying her best to sound casual despite the mischievous flutter in her chest. Fabien took his pad out of his pouch and clicked his pen.

Lena: “I’ll just have a garden salad, please... with French dressing.”

She couldn't help the tiny, knowing smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as she emphasized the word “French.”

Fabien paused his pen for a fraction of a second; his bright green eyes had an amused spark. A subtle, handsome smirk spread across his face as he quickly scribbled the order down onto his pad.

Fabien: “An exquisite choice…”

He said smoothly, playfully laying his accent on just a little thicker as he gave a slight, courtly bow.

Fabien: “A crisp garden salad with the finest French dressing. I’ll personally make sure they don’t skimp on it for you.”

He clicked his pen, slipping it back into his utility pouch with a wink.

Fabien: “Enjoy your float while I get this into the kitchen. I’ll be right back, Lena.”

As he turned to head toward the kitchen doors, Lena let out a soft, dreamy sigh, pulling the Unicorn float closer and taking a joyful sip through the straw.

Fabien expertly slid a massive Grand Slam Platter—heaping with loaded potato skins, onion rings, and sliders—onto the table of cheering sports fans. With an easy laugh and a quick wave to the boisterous group, he pivoted back toward the main aisle to check on his station.

Lena: “Fabien?”

Her soft, melodic voice cut through the diner’s hum just as he passed her booth. He stopped mid-stride, turning his bright green eyes toward her with a warm, attentive look. Tucking a thumb into the side of his server’s pouch, he leaned in slightly so she wouldn't have to raise her voice over the background music.

Fabien: “Hey, Lena.”

He said smoothly, flashing a friendly smile.

Fabien: “Everything okay with the float? Or is there something else I can grab for you while the kitchen finishes up your salad?”

Lena felt a familiar flutter in her chest as he gave her his undivided attention. She tucked a purple lock behind her ear, her fingers lightly tapping against the condensation on her glass as she gathered her courage.

Lena: “I heard you draw. Would you draw a butterfly on my placemat?”

She looked up at him through her lashes, her fingers nervously tracing the paper rim of the table mat. Fabien blinked in mild surprise, but the reaction quickly melted into a fond, easygoing grin. I guess she saw that Varg drawing I did for Jiro’s ex, he thought.

Fabien: “I guess you see some of my work on my Bungle server. Sure, why not?”

He chuckled, pulling his server pen from his utility pouch with a deft spin between his fingers.

He slid onto the edge of the vinyl bench opposite her, leaning over the plain paper placemat. With light, practiced strokes, the blue ballpoint pen glided effortlessly across the page. Fabien sketched the delicate curve of the wings, filling them in with intricate swirls, tiny floral motifs, and bold, stylized patterns. A few deft lines added shading and texture, bringing the little creature to life beside her silverware.

Lena watched in quiet awe, her Byzantine eyes wide as she admired how naturally his hand moved, catching the scent of his cologne.

With a final flourish, Fabien dotted the antennae and added a tiny, playful heart just above the wingtip. He clicked the pen shut with a sharp snap and slid it back into his pouch.

Fabien: “There you go.”

He said, turning the placemat slightly so she could see it right side up. Lena beamed, her chest swelling with genuine delight as she looked down at the sketch.

Lena: “It’s beautiful, Fabien. Thank you…”

Fabien: “My pleasure, Lena.”

He said with a warm wink, pushing himself up from the booth.

Fabien: “Now let me go grab that salad before Sal barks at me for ‘zoning out’.”

As soon as Fabien disappeared through the kitchen doors, Lena carefully lifted the paper placemat from the table. She handled it with the utmost care, making sure not to crease the delicate ballpoint linework of the wings or the tiny heart perched near the tip.

Unsnapping the gold clasp of her purse, she gently folded the clean edges back and slipped the drawing safely inside, pressing it flat between her belongings like a prized treasure. With a radiant smile still lingering on her lips, she snapped her purse shut and took another delighted sip of her Unicorn float, eagerly waiting for him to return with her salad.

Fabien pushed through the double doors, balancing a wide ceramic bowl in one hand and a pair of stainless steel dressing cups in the other. He navigated the dining room floor with effortless grace, returning to Lena’s booth with a bright, easy smile.

Fabien: “Here we go.”

He announced, setting the bowl down in front of her. The salad was piled high with crisp romaine, bright cherry tomatoes, shredded carrots, and golden croutons. Beside it, he placed the two little ramekins brimming with creamy, orange-tinted French dressing.

He leaned an arm casually against the edge of the high-backed vinyl booth, noticing the bare tabletop where the placemat had been just moments before. A knowing, amused glimmer danced in his green eyes, though he kept the observation entirely polite.

Fabien: “Everything look alright for you, Lena? Can I get you any extra napkins, or are you all set for now?”

He asked, his tone warm and attentive.

Lena: “I’m good…”

Fabien: “Awesome. Enjoy your meal, Lena—bon appétit!”

He said with a cheerful smile and a small, playful salute.

Fabien: “Just wave me down if you need a refill or anything else at all.”

He spun on his heel and headed off to check on his other tables, leaving Lena to happily pour the creamy French dressing over her crisp salad, utterly charmed by the entire evening.

Lena daintily speared a single crouton and a crisp ribbon of lettuce, eating each bite with quiet, measured grace. Between sips of her sweet float, she let her Byzantine eyes drift across the restaurant, completely captivated by the rhythm of Fabien’s shift.

He moved around the floor with seamless, relaxed efficiency. Balancing a stack of cleared bus tubs against his hip, he expertly wiped down an empty tabletop in swift, practiced arcs. Moments later, a fresh shout erupted from the corner booth beneath the neon signs as the Dolphins pulled ahead in their televised game. Without missing a beat, Fabien glided past with a heavy tray resting flat on his palm, setting down a frothing, ice-cold round of draft beers right into the middle of the roaring table.

The rowdy fans slammed their hands against the table in celebration, cheering and slapping him on the shoulder, but Fabien just laughed easily, giving them a good-natured two-finger salute before weaving his way back through the crowded aisles. Watching him handle the diner’s high energy with such effortless charm made every small bite of her salad feel wonderfully sweet.

Lena waved him down.

Lena: “May I have another refill?”

Fabien smiled and nodded.

Fabien: “You got it. Another Unicorn Float?”

Lena blushed and nodded.

Lena: “Yes.”

Fabien: “One sweet encore, coming right up.”

He replied with a wink, picking up the empty glass. With a quick spin, Fabien headed back toward the bar.

A few minutes later, Fabien slid the fresh, frosted glass onto the table with an effortless flourish, stepping back to let Lena admire it.

Rising out of the mound of fluffy whipped cream were two plump maraschino cherries, carefully angled toward each other with their stems intertwined, while a clever swirl of red strawberry syrup bridged the gap below them to trace the silhouette of a bright, sweet heart.

Fabien: “Round two.”

He announced with a lighthearted, playful grin.

Fabien: “Figured the butterfly needed something to match, so I upgraded the artwork for the VIP table.”

Lena stared at the sweet confection, her breath catching in her throat. The sight of the little cherry heart made her entire face bloom into a brilliant, burning crimson. Her heart fluttered wildly beneath the gold pendant resting against her collarbone, and she had to clasp both hands in her lap just to keep them from visibly trembling with sheer delight.

Lena: “It’s… It’s really sweet, Fabien… Thank you so much…”

She managed to say, her voice soft and breathless as she looked up into his bright green eyes.

Fabien: “Anytime, Lena. Enjoy every bit of it.”

He replied warmly, resting a hand casually on his hip.

Fabien: “Take your time, and just let me know whenever you’re ready for the check, all right?”

He gave her a quick, cheerful wink before turning to answer another shout from across the dining room, leaving Lena sitting in a blissful, starry-eyed daze over her heart-topped float.

Lena finished the last sweet sip of her float and noticed the dining room had quieted down significantly. The rowdy sports fans had cleared out, and Fabien was no longer darting from table to table with heavy trays. Instead, he stood by the server station with his arms crossed over his chest, chatting amiably with the bartender under the hum of the neon lights.

Seizing the moment while he was finally free, Lena gave a small, polite wave toward him.

Lena: “Fabien?”

She called out softly. Fabien looked up, his green eyes catching her signal right away. Flashing his familiar, easygoing grin, he stepped away from the counter and strode over to her booth.

Fabien: “Hey there, Lena.”

He said smoothly, leaning slightly against the edge of the booth partition.

Fabien: “Looks like you conquered both floats. How was everything? Ready for the bill, or just taking a breather before heading out?”

Lena: "Wanna sit with me for a bit?"

Fabien glanced back over his shoulder toward the kitchen and the host podium. The rush was completely dead, the floor was clean, and Janine gave him an indifferent, breezy wave from the front stand that practically signaled he was in the clear.

Fabien: “Sure, why not? My shift’s winding down anyway.”

He said with an easy grin. He slid into the opposite side of the vinyl booth, crossing one leg over the other and leaning his back comfortably against the corner cushion. His white hair fell slightly over his forehead, and he let out a relaxed sigh, resting his forearm on the table.

Fabien: “How’s the rest of your night looking, Lena?”

Lena’s heart did a little leap seeing him sitting right across from her, completely relaxed and giving her his full, easygoing attention.

Lena: “I plan on baking in my heart-shaped muffin tin.”

Fabien’s eyebrows raised with genuine interest, a bright, friendly smile lighting up his face.

Fabien: “Oh, really? That sounds pretty awesome.”

He said, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned forward onto the table.

Fabien: “What kind are you planning on making? Chocolate chip, blueberry, or are you going for something a little more gourmet?”

Lena felt the familiar, warm flutter in her chest as his bright green eyes locked onto hers with total, undivided attention. As Fabien leaned in, a distinct, intoxicating waft of Gucci cologne drifted past the sweet scent of strawberry syrup and fried diner appetizers. The warm, sophisticated fragrance made Lena’s pulse flutter even faster.

Lena: “What are your favorites?”

She asked softly, twirling a strand of purple hair around her finger as she looked at him with hopeful curiosity. Fabien chuckled, tapping his chin thoughtfully for a second before his bright green eyes met hers with an easy grin.

Fabien: “Tough choice, but I’d have to go with blueberry.”

He said smoothly, leaning his cheek into his palm.

Fabien: “Or, if we’re talking absolute top tier... carrot cake muffins with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting. You get the crunch, the spice, and the sweet cream cheese all in one bite. You honestly can’t beat it.”

He flashed her a playful wink across the table. Lena felt a warm rush heat her cheeks all over again, a secret, delighted plan already forming in her mind for the next time she fired up her oven.

Lena: “I will make both for you!”

Fabien let out a genuine, delighted laugh, his green eyes sparkling.

Fabien: “Both? Now that’s what I call first-class service.”

He said with an appreciative grin, shaking his head slightly.

Fabien: “You really don't have to go through all that trouble, Lena, but I definitely won’t turn down homemade baked goods. That sounds amazing.”

He stretched his arms over the back of the vinyl booth, totally relaxed as the warm scent of his cologne lingered in the cozy space between them. Lena beamed, her heart soaring so high she could barely feel the seat beneath her. Her hands rested happily over her purse, guarding the little butterfly sketch inside while the promise of heart-shaped muffins sealed what felt like the absolute best night of the year.

Lena: “Fabien?”

Fabien leaned in a little closer across the table, resting his chin comfortably in his hand. His bright green eyes looked at her with gentle curiosity, his easy, friendly smile never fading.

Fabien: “Yeah? What’s on your mind?”

Lena: “Would you drive me home tonight?”

Fabien raised his eyebrows and nodded.

Fabien: “Sure, why not?”

He rose.

Fabien: “Give me a few, okay?”

He stretched his arms and legs and went into the back locker room.

Another waiter at Danny Donger’s looked at Fabien.

Danny Donger’s Waiter: “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning tonight?”

Fabien: “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning tonight?”

He echoed in a mocking singsong tone.

Fabien: “Listen, I wasn’t hired to clean. I am hired to look good while people drool over me. Maybe Gary should invest in some janitors and stop drooling over goddamn Jiro! Maybe he should have Jiro lick his ass clean.”

He snapped as he stormed into the locker room.

Lena giggled at Fabien’s quips. His quips in his server always brightened her day, and it was nice seeing them in person.

He hadn’t bothered to change out of his Danny Donger’s uniform—the green dolphin shorts, tube socks, and canvas sneakers were all still in place—but he had thrown a classic black leather motorcycle jacket over his bare torso. The contrast of the tough, heavy leather zipped loosely over his server attire gave him an effortlessly rebellious, late-night edge. He ran a hand through his wavy white hair, shaking out the scent of the kitchen as the subtle, rich notes of his Gucci cologne cut through the air once more.

Fabien: “Let’s get out of this fucking hellhole.”

He said, jingling a set of car keys around his index finger with an easy, satisfied grin. He walked up to Lena's booth, leaning one hand against the backrest.

Lena snapped out of her starry-eyed daze, hastily gathering her purse with the butterfly drawing tucked safely inside, her heart fluttering at the sight of him in the sleek leather jacket.

Lena: “Okay!”

She replied brightly, sliding out of the booth and smoothing down her floral dress as she followed him toward the back exit.

Fabien pulled a sleek pair of dark Ray-Bans from his jacket pocket and slid them onto the bridge of his nose with practiced ease.

Parked beneath the amber glow of a streetlamp sat his 1970 Shelby Mustang Cobra. The muscular lines of the classic car gleamed in the dim light. Fabien rounded the hood and opened the heavy passenger side door for her with a polite, gentlemanly nod.

Fabien: “After you, mademoiselle.”

Lena stepped in, smoothing her dress over the vintage leather interior. The rich scent of aged upholstery and Fabien’s cologne filled the cabin. Fabien shut her door securely, jogged around to the driver’s side, and slid behind the wheel.

He slotted the key into the ignition and turned it. The Cobra’s V8 engine roared to life with a deep, throaty rumble that reverberated right through the floorboards, settling into a low, steady purr. Fabien clicked on the headlights, illuminating the empty asphalt ahead. He glanced over with a grin from behind his dark shades, resting one hand casually on the shifter.

With a fluid flick of his wrist, Fabien produced a sleek silver Zippo and a fresh pack of cigarettes from inside his leather jacket. He popped a cigarette between his lips, thumbing the lighter open. The metallic clink echoed crisply in the quiet cabin of the Shelby just before the flint struck, casting a brief, amber flare across the dark lenses of his Ray-Bans. He drew in a slow breath, the tip glowing a rich crimson, and blew a thin plume of pale smoke toward the cracked driver’s window. The sharp aroma of rich tobacco seamlessly mingled with the lingering trace of his cologne and the warm scent of vintage leather.

Resting his right arm over the back of Lena’s seat, he adjusted the rearview mirror with his left hand, glancing over his shoulder to check the quiet back alley. He dropped the shifter down, eased his foot off the clutch, and smoothly backed the roaring muscle car out of its parking space.

With practiced muscle memory, Fabien gripped the classic gear stick and shifted cleanly into first gear. The Shelby surged forward with effortless power as he steered out of the alleyway, rolling past the buzzing neon glow of Danny Donger’s and turning onto the wide, open asphalt of the main boulevard.

Lena sat with her hands clasped delicately over her purse, totally mesmerized. Between the purr of the Cobra, the smoky late-night haze, and Fabien driving beside her with absolute, cool confidence, the ride home felt like a scene straight out of a dream.

Fabien guided the Shelby up the curved on-ramp, the Mustang leaning into the turn with effortless precision. As the lane merged onto the wide, open expanse of the freeway, he rested his left elbow against the open window frame, the glowing tip of his cigarette trailing a thin wisp of smoke into the rushing midnight wind.

With a quick, smooth press of the clutch, he shifted up through the gears. The deep, throaty rumble of the V8 rose into a powerful, confident roar, pushing them back into the vintage leather seats as the Cobra surged forward into the nearly empty fast lane.

Overhead highway lamps cast sweeping ribbons of amber and gold across the long, muscular hood and over the dark lenses of his Ray-Bans. The cityscape stretched out in the distance, a sprawling grid of glowing neon towers and pulsing red taillights under the dark sky.

Lena couldn't help the small, breathless smile on her face as she looked out through the windshield. The sheer power of the car, the blurred glow of the city speeding by, and Fabien steering with one relaxed hand on the wheel made the late-night drive feel completely electric.

Lena turned slightly in her seat, her purple eyes softly illuminated by the pale green glow of the dashboard gauges. She couldn’t bring herself to look away, completely captivated by the effortless ease with which Fabien drove.

The rhythm of the highway streetlights washed over his profile in steady intervals, tracing the sharp, handsome line of his jaw and casting dynamic shadows across his cheekbones. Even behind the dark lenses of his Ray-Bans, his focus on the open road was unmistakable. One hand rested lightly on the top of the steering wheel, his knuckles relaxed, while the other casually held his cigarette near the cracked window, letting the midnight breeze sweep the pale smoke into the rush of the night air.

His wavy white fringe danced in the wind, catching silver highlights against the dark leather of his jacket. Lena clutched her handbag in her lap, her fingers lightly grazing the spot where the butterfly sketch rested safely inside. Her heart drummed a steady, fluttering rhythm against her ribs that matched the thrum of the Shelby's V8 engine. There was something magnetic about the quiet confidence he radiated—a mix of rugged late-night cool and the gentle charm he had shown her at the diner booth just an hour before.

As if feeling her gaze, the corner of Fabien’s mouth tilted up into a faint, knowing smirk. Without taking his eyes off the road, he tapped an idle finger against the steering wheel.

Fabien: “Everything okay over there, Lena?”

He sked smoothly, his voice a low, warm baritone that cut gently through the hum of the engine. Fabien: “Not driving too fast for you, am I?”

Lena: “No.”

She murmured softly, a bright blush dusting her cheeks beneath the city glow as she smiled.

Lena: “This is perfect.”

Ahead on the freeway, a cluster of flashing amber hazard lights and bright orange construction barrels abruptly narrowed the three lanes down to a single crawl. A large, reflective metal sign beamed in the Shelby’s high beams: DETOUR — ALL TRAFFIC MUST EXIT.

Fabien tipped his head slightly, peering over the top rim of his Ray-Bans as he took a final, slow drag from his cigarette. He stubbed the glowing ember out in the chrome dashboard ashtray, snapping the little lid shut with a clean click.

Fabien: “Looks like the city decided to tear up the road early tonight.”

He remarked smoothly, shifting his grip on the wheel.

With a practiced heel-and-toe tap on the pedals, he dropped the transmission down a gear. The Cobra’s engine growled in deep deceleration as he smoothly guided the muscle car between the striped pylons and veered onto the curving off-ramp.

The bright glare of the highway lamps gave way to the quieter, moody ambiance of the lower boulevard. Streetlights here were spaced farther apart, casting tall, dramatic pools of amber light across the damp pavement as the heavy rumble of the V8 echoed off the facades of darkened storefronts.

Fabien: “Gives us the scenic route anyway…”

He said, a relaxed smirk returning to his face as he casually rested his arm back on the windowsill.

He clicked his turn signal, its rhythmic ticking matching the low synth pulse from the dashboard speakers. With a smooth flick of the steering wheel, he guided the Shelby Mustang down the gentle slope of the off-ramp, easing off the urban grid and onto the long, uninterrupted stretch of the two-lane coastal road.

The transition was instant. The buzzing streetlamps and glowing neon billboards of the city quickly faded behind them, replaced by the deep, midnight expanse of the open road framed by towering palms and distant silhouettes of the coastline. The cool ocean breeze rushed in through the cracked window, carrying the crisp, salty air.

Fabien dropped the Cobra into third gear and stepped down on the gas. The V8 engine roared with deep, unrestrained power, its heavy vibration humming right through the floorboards as the classic muscle car surged forward into the dark, sweeping asphalt under a canopy of stars.

Lena rested her cheek against her palm, looking back and forth between the open road and the handsome driver beside her, silently wishing this scenic detour would never have to end.

Just a mile down the winding coastal road, a row of striped wooden sawhorses and flickering red lanterns blocked the entire lane. A hand-painted sign propped against a barrel read: ROAD CLOSED — STORM RUNOFF REPAIR — USE SCENIC OVERLOOK LOOP.

Fabien let out a low, amused whistle as he tapped the brakes, the Shelby slowing to a smooth crawl before the barricade. He pushed his Ray-Bans up into his white hair, leaning slightly over the steering wheel to inspect the obstruction with a dry smirk.

Fabien: “The city really doesn’t want to make this easy tonight, huh?”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

Fabien: “Two detours in ten minutes has got to be a local record.”

He glanced over at Lena, his bright green eyes catching the faint red glow of the roadside lanterns. The detour path curved sharply to the right, winding up toward a high bluff that overlooked the dark ocean waters below.

Fabien: “Looks like the only way through is taking the overlook loop.”

He said, resting his hand back on the stick shift.

He shifted into gear and swung the Cobra onto the ascending road, steering smoothly as the Mustang climbed the winding curves toward the cliffside. The road opened up at the crest of the bluff into a wide, quiet turnout. Below, the dark ocean stretched out toward the horizon, its midnight waves shimmering beneath a scattered blanket of stars and the silver glow of the twin moons.

Fabien eased the car into a space along the weathered timber railing and shifted into neutral, pulling the handbrake with a satisfying click. He turned off the key, letting the deep rumble of the V8 fade into the gentle, rhythmic crashing of the tide against the rocks below.

Pushing his Ray-Bans on his head, he rested both forearms over the top of the steering wheel and looked out through the windshield at the expansive, panoramic view.

Fabien: “Not a bad place to get rerouted to, right?”

He said softly, turning his head to look at Lena with a relaxed, gentle smile.

Fabien: “Pretty breathtaking out here.”

Fabien reached inside his leather jacket, pulling out another cigarette and his silver Zippo. With a smooth, practiced flick of his thumb, the metal casing snapped open with a sharp clink, and the flint sparked to life in a warm, amber flame that cast dancing shadows across his sharp features.

He touched the flame to the tip, drew in a slow, measured breath, then flicked the lighter shut with a metallic snap. Turning his head slightly toward the open window, he exhaled a thin, elegant plume of pale smoke into the cool ocean air. The salty sea breeze instantly caught it, carrying the rich, aromatic scent of fine tobacco back into the car.

Resting his elbow comfortably on the driver’s side doorframe, Fabien held the cigarette loosely between two fingers, letting his gaze drift between the vast, shimmering expanse of the moonlit water below.

Fabien: “How are things between you and Jordi?”

He asked. Lena stiffened, pouting at why he had to ask that.

Lena: “He slept with someone I liked a lot!”

She folded her arms over her chest.

Lena: “...How do you deal with your own brother sleeping with someone you wanted to be in a relationship with?”

She whispered, looking away.

Fabien: “...I don’t have a brother… or a sister.”

He admitted.

Fabien: “My own parents didn’t want me; I was born just to be a social prop for them, because their friends had children and my parents didn’t—yet. My mother didn’t want to get fat… She’s a supermodel. My father didn’t want her getting fat, despite him being a fat fuck.”

He said bitterly.

Fabien: “Why would I have siblings?”

Lena felt a sharp pang of sympathy, her heart aching for the boy he had once been. She reached out, her fingers grazing the cool leather of his jacket before settling gently over his hand on the steering wheel.

Lena: “Fabien, I’m so sorry…”

She whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Lena: “You didn’t deserve any of that. No child does. I want you to know how glad I am that I know you now—the person you’ve become, despite them.”

Fabien turned to her and raised his eyebrows.

Fabien: “...Thank you, Lena.”

He said gently.

He cleared his throat and inhaled a long drag.

Fabien: “As for Jordi… and Jiro.”

He said “Jiro” with disgust.

Fabien: “Jiro and your brother jump from person-to-person, so this honestly doesn’t surprise me.”

He said, exhaling a long drag.

Fabien: “I will never get why he banged that fat chick. I knew they were friends, but he never showed any attraction for her. I guess his people-pleasing tendencies got the best of him. He always did this bullshit, even when he worked with me at Danny Donger’s.”

He said bitterly and took in another drag. Lena raised her eyebrows.

Lena: “Jordi worked with you at Danny Donger’s?”

Fabien pursed his lips and nodded.

Fabien: “Yeah. It’s how we met.”

He cleared his throat.

Fabien: “...And he was the only one who wanted to talk to me. No one else wanted to talk to me.”

He laughed a mirthless laugh.

Lena: “You seemed like you got along with your co-workers.”

Fabien looked at her and ran his hand through his hair.

Fabien: “Lena, no, not really. It’s a job that pays the bills, and I am in my environment, but it’s not a place like where Jiro works. I don’t know if I could handle THAT.”

He twisted his mouth and leaned back into the seat.

Fabien: “I’m nice to most customers for the tips, because I’m not stupid enough to believe I would skate by if I acted like Blair.”

He huffed, taking one final, slow draw from his cigarette, watching the glowing cherry flare a bright crimson before stubbing it out cleanly in the dashboard ashtray.

Fabien: “I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on, so I can cry in my racecar bed because some fat chick doesn’t ‘love’ me. Anyway, Basile wouldn’t give me a trust fund. He cut me off when I ditched that bitch, Clarisse, at our wedding.”

He said, shifting in his seat.

Lena: “You were married?”

She asked him, as her heart thumped in her chest. Fabien snorted.

Fabien: “Almost, but no. I rode on my horse, Blanche, to leave the ceremony and was promptly kicked out of my fucking home!”

He said, his tone laced with acid.

Fabien: “Then I was really on my own when I was expelled from law school… I got a job delivering for Pizzas, Gyros, and More…”

He said, his voice trailing off, recalling the night he delivered to Finley Lloyd, which was his final delivery.

Fabien: “Now I work at Danny Donger’s!”

He smiled.

Lena: “Yes, and you do a good job there!”

She said as her heart fluttered.

Lena: “What happened to Clarisse?”

Fabien shrugged.

Fabien: “Don’t know, don’t care. She’s not stalking me as Jiro’s ex did, and that’s all that matters.”

Lena smiled tenderly at him.

Fabien pulled his Ray-Bans back down over his eyes, slotted the key into the ignition, and gave it a turn.

The Cobra’s V8 engine rumbled back to life with a satisfying, deep growl that echoed off the bluff. Releasing the handbrake, Fabien smoothly steered the muscle car back onto the descending road, following the paved detour as it branched away from the coastal cliffs and looped deep into a dense, heavily wooded pass.

The light of the twin moons disappeared beneath a thick, towering canopy of ancient pines and cypress trees, plunging the road into near-total darkness. Fabien clicked on the Shelby’s high beams. Two piercing, brilliant cones of white light cut through the blackness, illuminating the winding asphalt, the mossy trunks lining the shoulder, and the swirling mist hovering just above the pavement.

Lena watched the shadows of the pines flicker across Fabien’s profile, her mind racing to keep up with everything he had just shared. The rough-edged, rebellious waiter she had admired from afar—the one who snapped at his coworkers and drove a roaring muscle car—seemed so much more fragile now. The way he spoke about his parents, especially his mother’s vanity and his father’s indifference, made her heart ache with a protective intensity she hadn’t expected.

It was hard to reconcile the image of a law student or a groom at a high-society wedding with the man sitting beside her in green dolphin shorts and a leather jacket. He had walked away from everything—wealth, status, a family legacy—just to be free of their expectations. Even the way he spoke about his time delivering pizzas or working at the diner carried a trace of bitter pride. He was a survivor, built on his own terms, and the fact that he had chosen this quiet, dark road to tell her his secrets felt like a gift he didn’t give to just anyone.

As the high beams illuminated the swirling mist ahead, she felt a wave of deepening affection that went far beyond a simple crush. In the close, smoky air of the cabin, surrounded by the scent of leather and his cologne, the world outside the Shelby didn't seem to matter. This quiet intimacy, shared between gear shifts and heavy silences, made her realize she didn’t just want to bake for him or see him at work; she wanted to be the girl to take care of him.