Page 34 of Chasing Lyric
I bite my lips together while holding the apple to his face. He slowly brings his foot up to take it. Then he wraps his claw around the piece of apple.Bingo.My chest squeezes in hope as he brings it to his mouth. He takes a bite, and elation flows through me as my heart hammers in my chest with pride that he’sfinallygoing to eat properly.
Then he promptly spits it right back at me, the small chunk hitting me square in the chest.
I groan as he drops the slice of apple to the floor.
“Ha… ha… ha…” he lets out, fluffing up like he’s proud of himself.
I flick the piece of wet apple from the top of my cleavage as I glare at him. “I swear, Polly, one day…one dayI will get you to eat your damn apples.”
He lets out a loud squawk.“Rawrr… seeds,”he replies, nudging the bowl of apple slices aside to get to his seeds.
“You’re going to have to eat apples, Polly Parton, so help me God. Or you’re going to get way too fat eating only seeds. You’vegotta have your fruit. The vet’s gonna kill me if I can’t get you to eat it.”
“Rawrr…fuck off.”
I focus my gaze on him. “I’m going to punch Clef for teaching you how to swear.”
“Rawrr…love you,” Polly adds, sucking up.
This bird, really?
“Eat your damn fruit,” I demand, turning for the living room to grab my bag. I hear a clang and turn to see that Polly has pushed the apple container to the bottom of his cage. His head is facing away from me like he knows he’s done the wrong thing and is waiting for me to retaliate, but I know if I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.
“Urgh, you’re lucky I love you, Polly. Now behave. Have a good night,” I tell him while grabbing my bag as he ruffles up his feathers.
I walk out to my truck, nerves hitting me like a tidal wave. I haven’t done this in so long.I’m rusty.I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
I guess I just need to play it cool. I mean, I’ve spent hours alone with Chase already, and it’s not like I don’t know how to talk to the guy.
So, relax, Lyri.
I slide into the truck and make my way to the restaurant off Obama Boulevard.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter Eight
LYRIC
Chase really wanted to pick me up, but I managed to convince him to meet me at the restaurant.
Pulling up, my stomach is twisted in a tangled knot of nerves I can’t seem to untangle.
Which is ridiculous.
I’m a grown woman, confident, independent, not the type to unravel over dinner with a man. And yet my palms are slick when I pull open the restaurant door.
The hush of soft music washes over me first, angelic, romantic, the kind of sound that slips under your skin and slows your pulse whether you want it to or not. I breathe it in, letting it cut through my panic. Amber-hued light spills across the room, warm and golden, wrapping me up as if California itself decided to soothe me.
The space narrows at the entry, stonework climbing the walls in a texture that feels rugged and worn but somehow elegant too. To my left, a bar stretches long and solid, the stone repeating in its frame like an echo. To the right, sunlight filters through a wall of glass, where a weathered oak table runs the length of the window, flanked by barstools. It looks like the kind of spot you could linger with a drink, watching the street go by, feeling tucked away yet still connected to the world outside.
Through the glass, the outdoor room glows with its own magic. A tree rises at its center, branches heavy with fairy lights that drip down as if there are constellations tangled in its leaves. The space feels alive, sheltered from the heat but open to the night, a secret garden carved into the middle of the city.
Every table inside is dressed in layered white linen, crisp but a little askew, like someone wanted order but gave in to charm instead. The rough stone on the walls, the soft glow, the mix of rustic and modern, it shouldn’t work, but it does.
Perfectly.
And I’m standing here, still nervous, but also enchanted. This isn’t just a restaurant, it’s the kind of place that could hold a thousand beginnings.
