The interior of the restaurant was sleek and sophisticated without being pretentious, and Lisa admired that. She was distracted, though, by Noah's hand, warm on her lower back. The touch was all too brief, but it reminded her of other times. Other dinners, where her partner - usually a co-worker - would place his hand there for direction toward their seat at a gala, for reassurance that the evening ceremonies would go off without a hitch, or because she'd had a bit too much wine and she required support.
They had been friends, but not like how she'd been thinking of Noah. He was a friend, she hoped, yes, but when he looked at her, he made the butterflies in her stomach active. She told herself she had no right to feel that way about him, but there it was.
Scott had made her butterflies flitter. Lisa hadn't been with anyone in any serious fashion for a while, but no one had done this to her since Scott.
"I'm sure I will, Noah. Perhaps you'll be able to guide me," she added, opening her menu but unable to focus on it properly.