Chapter 35: Unexpected Dinner Plans
The lobby of the building was elegant and quiet, designed to impress without trying too hard.
Floor-to-ceiling glass walls framed the bustling city outside like living artwork. Polished marble floors reflected the warm glow of chandelier lights overhead. Sleek, modern couches lined one wall, while indoor plants in tall ceramic pots added a splash of green. The front desk was manned by a uniformed concierge, who gave her a polite nod as she passed.
She made her way to the small café near the entrance, the scent of roasted coffee beans and vanilla pastries greeting her as she stepped inside. There weren't many people. Just a couple of tenants chatting softly in the corner.
Lara ordered an Okinawa milk tea, then settled at a table by the wide fiber-glass window. She placed the white paper bag on the table and leaned back in her seat, pulling out her phone to scroll through Instxgram reels while sipping her drink.
A few minutes passed when a notification popped up on her screen. It was a text message from Reagan.
Reagan: Just arrived at the parking lot. Will be there soon.
Lara smiled, tapping a quick reply.
Lara: It's fine. Take your time.
She went back to scrolling, watching snippets of recipes, travel vlogs, and baby animals when she received a new text from Reagan.
Reagan: I'm here.
Just as she raised her head, the café door swung open.
And there he was.
Reagan stepped inside, dressed in a black pullover and slacks. His striking green eyes found her immediately, and his expression softened.
Lara stood up, a soft smile on her lips.
"Hi," she greeted.
"Hey,' he returned, mirroring her smile.
They sat down across from each other. Lara reached for the paper bag and slid it toward him across the table.
"Here's your coat. Thanks again for letting me use it last time."
Reagan nodded, accepting the bag and placing it beside his chair with a casual nod. "It's fine. Nothing big."
She chuckled lightly. "Still, thank you."
Reagan offered a subtle smile, the kind that didn't reach his lips but lingered in his eyes. It was clear he wasn't one for fussing over small gestures, but she could tell he didn't mind the kindness in her words.
She leaned back in her chair, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "So, have you had dinner yet? Or maybe you'd like to order something here?" she asked, her voice casual.
"Not yet. You?" he replied, his gaze flickering briefly to her nearly empty milk tea.
She shook her head. "Not yet. Just this."
He leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "Then... would you like to have dinner with me?"
She blinked. "Dinner?"
"Yeah," he said it simply, like he wasn't overthinking it.
"Will you be taking me to another five-star restaurant again?" she asked, half teasing.
Reagan's lips quirked. "Depends. What are you in the mood for?"
Lara chuckled. "Honestly? I'm craving something simple. But I'm not sure if it'll suit your palate."
"Try me," he said, tilting his head with mild curiosity.
She let out a light laugh, raising her brows. "You said it. No backing out."
"Deal."
"Alright then," she said, standing up and grabbing her milk tea. "Let's go. I know a great place."
"I'll drive," Reagan offered, already standing.
She opened her mouth to protest but realized she didn't bring her car keys. It would be a waste of time to head back upstairs.
With a resigned sigh, she smiled and shrugged. "Fine. I didn't bring my car keys anyway. So, yeah. Let's go."
They left the café, and Reagan led her outside the building toward where his car was parked, just a few meters from the entrance.
The early evening air was warm and slightly humid and the sun had already dipped beyond the skyline, casting a warm orange hue over the street.
Reagan unlocked his car, and opened the passenger door for Lara.
"Thanks," Lara said with a small smile as she got in.
Once Reagan slid into the driver's seat, she gave him the address of the place she had in mind. Reagan nodded, punching it into the GPS.
"But you sure about this spot?" Reagan asked as he start the engine.
Lara grinned. "Very sure. Trust me, it's not fancy, but the food will change your life."
Reagan glanced sideways at her, one brow raised. "That's a bold claim."
She only smiled in return, eyes glinting with mischief. "You'll see."
The traffic, unfortunately, wasn't on their side. It was rush hour, and the streets were packed. Cars inched forward in a slow, honking symphony. But strangely, the time didn't feel wasted. They talked, nothing deep, just bits and pieces. Music filled the silence in between. The conversation was light, the mood easy.
Almost an hour passed before they finally reached the spot.
An old street market bursting with life. Food stalls lined both sides of the street, the air thick with the scent of grilled meat, fried snacks, and sweet desserts. The already narrow street buzzed with people, families, groups of friends, couples, vendors yelling out promotions, and the occasional motorcycle weaving dangerously through.
Reagan slowed the car, eyebrows drawn together. "This is... busy."
"I told you it's not fancy," Lara said, eyes bright with excitement. "But it's so worth it."
"But where am I supposed to leave the car?" he muttered, his eyes scanning for a parking spot.
"There!" Lara pointed at an open patch along the roadside.
It was tight, but Reagan managed to parallel park with surprising precision.
Once outside, Lara's eyes lit up. The warm breeze carried the smell of charcoal, spices, and something deep-fried. Her stomach growled, and her heart filled with nostalgia.
She glanced at Reagan, who stood a bit straighter than usual, scanning the scene with careful eyes, his brows slightly furrowed.
"You okay?" she asked with a laugh. "You look like you're preparing for battle."
He gave her a sidelong look, half amused. "Just mentally adjusting. This is... new territory."
Lara chuckled. "So, what do you think?"
Reagan gave a small shrug. "Not what I expected, honestly. Are you sure you're okay eating here?"
"I've never been more sure," she reached for his wrist with a grin and tugged him forward. "Come on, don't overthink it. I used to come here with Duke and Ali back in college. I'll show you around."
With that, she pulled him toward the stalls.
Their first stop was a pares stall with a bold red tarp and the mouthwatering scent of slow-cooked beef wafting from its large pot. The rich aroma of simmering broth made Lara's stomach rumble.
"You ever tried pares?" she asked, turning to Reagan with a glint of excitement in her eyes.
He shook his head, eyeing the bubbling stew with mild suspicion. "Never even heard of it. Should I be concerned?"
"No. You should be excited," she said, her eyes gleaming. "This stuff is magic. Beef stew and java rice? Heaven."
They ordered two servings of beef pares, plus spicy sisig and siomai on the side. The vendor pointed them toward a small table flanked by plastic stools, squeezed between two other stalls. It was tight, a little grimy, and loud, but it was perfect.
Their food was served quickly, steaming and fragrant. Lara eagerly dug in, taking a big spoonful of the beef and rice. She sighed with satisfaction.
"Mmm... this is so good."
She looked over to Reagan, who was inspecting the dish like it might bite back.
"Well?" she prompted, raising a brow.
Reagan gave her a skeptical look before finally taking a spoonful. Then another.
His brows lifted. "Huh. That's... actually really good," he admitted, almost sounding surprised.
"Right?!" she beamed, almost triumphant. "Told you."
They continued eating. Reagan was quiet but clearly interested, taking his time with each dish. He didn't seem entirely comfortable. Hs posture too upright, his eyes darting every time someone brushed past their cramped table, but he wasn't complaining either. Lara, meanwhile, looked right at home.
"Want your siomai spicy?" she asked, already reaching for the condiments.
"Anything will be good," he replied.
"Alright, you said that," she said, smirking as she doused the siomai in chili garlic, soy sauce, and a generous squeeze of calamansi. She did the same for the sisig, mixing it expertly so the citrus would cut through the richness.
They shared the dishes, and Lara couldn't help but steal glances at him between bites.
Reagan, the ever-composed, immaculate man who seemed to prefer fine dining, eating street food under yellow flickering lights, seated on a plastic stool that wobbled every time he shifted.
It was a strange, funny sight. And what's even more surprising, she haven't heard him complain at all.