"...Do you think I'm boring?"

The question hangs in the air between us, unexpected and vulnerable in a way that seems out of character for Eric. The low hum of the bar's background music suddenly feels too loud, and I can hear the ice clinking in our drinks as I reach for my glass.

The warm amber liquid burns slightly as it goes down, giving me a moment to study his profile in the dim lighting. His jawline is tense, as though he's bracing himself for my answer, and there's something in his eyes I can't quite place—maybe insecurity, maybe something else entirely.

I set my glass down carefully, the sound echoing in the suddenly too-quiet space between us, and wonder what prompted this question after all this time together.