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The Colombian sits, adjusting his jacket. My heartbeat drums in my ears. A quick scan of the restaurant reveals no escape route that wouldn't take me directly past him.

Three options flash through my mind like neon signs:

I could bolt right now, grab Dee's hand, make some excuse about feeling sick, and disappear into the Miami night. But running feels beneath me. Plus, I'd look like a coward in front of Dee.

I could confront him. Walk straight over to his table, stare him down, maybe whisper something threatening. But that puts Dee in danger. If this escalates, she becomes collateral damage in a fight she never signed up for.

Or I could just... do nothing. Keep my head down, avoid eye contact, hope he doesn't recognize me. The safest play, but it kills the vibe of our date. I'd spend the whole night paranoid, checking over my shoulder.

The Colombian starts ordering something from a waiter. He hasn't spotted me yet.

I make my decision. We finish dinner normally. I get Dee safely away first. Then I deal with whatever comes next.

"Jose?" Dee waves her hand in front of my face. "You went somewhere else for a minute."

I lean forward, focusing entirely on her. "Sorry. Just thinking how beautiful you look tonight."

Her smile returns, though I can tell she's not completely buying it. Before she can press further, our waiter arrives with steaming bowls of Ajiaco soup, the rich aroma cutting through my anxiety.

"This smells amazing!" Dee's eyes widen as she takes in the hearty stew, the chunks of chicken and potatoes visible beneath the surface.

"Try it with some cream," I suggest.

She takes a spoonful, closes her eyes as she tastes it. "Oh my god." Her expression transforms into pure delight. "This is incredible."

For a moment, I forget about the Colombian. Watching Dee experience something I've described, something connected to my actual heritage, grounds me in reality. This moment between us is real, regardless of the danger lurking across the restaurant.

"So," Dee says between enthusiastic spoonfuls, "did you see Greas yet? Jonathon Travolta is absolutely dreamy in it."

"Haven't had the chance," I admit, grateful for the distraction. "Is it good?"

"Good? It's amazing! The dancing, the music." She puts down her spoon to demonstrate a hand jive motion. "Travolta has these moves that make every girl in the theater swoon. I've seen it twice already."

I smile, genuinely entertained by her enthusiasm. "You like dancing?"

"Love it! I take disco lessons when I can afford them." She looks slightly embarrassed. "One of my get-rich schemes is to open a dance studio someday."

"I'd bet on that working out," I say, meaning it. Her passion is infectious.

"What about you? Can you dance?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Let's just say I move with purpose, not necessarily rhythm."

She laughs, the sound bright against the restaurant's background noise. I check the Colombian's position without turning my head. Still eating, still unaware.

Our conversation flows easily as we finish our main courses.

"Did you see Supermen?" Dee asks suddenly. "I can't believe they made a big serious movie about a comic book character!"

I can't help but smile strangely. "Yeah, pretty unique concept."

"I mean, who would have thought? Flying around in a cape, saving people. It's so... different. Think we'll see more movies like this?"

I give her a knowing look. "Oh, I think superhero movies have great potential. More and more children raised with comics on their shelves become adults."

"Really? Hard to imagine. Seems like such a weird one-off thing." She shakes her head. "Who wants to watch grown men in tights saving the world over and over? Seems like a very boring concept. I mean, what's next? Movies about people talking to computers out loud? Dancing aliens?" She waves her hands dramatically, nearly knocking over her water glass.

I bite my tongue to keep from laughing.

"Yes, a man in tights will never become fashionable," I reply instead.

The waiter brings our check, and I quickly place cash on the table, including a generous tip.

"The night doesn't have to end yet," I say, though I know it does, for her safety.

"Actually, I should probably head home. Early morning tomorrow." She looks genuinely disappointed.

Perfect. "Let me get you a taxi."

I pay the bill, leaving a generous tip that makes the waiter's eyes widen, and guide Dee toward the door with my hand lightly on her lower back. We walk past the Colombian's table, and I keep my face angled away, focusing entirely on Dee.

Outside, the Miami night has cooled slightly, a gentle breeze coming off the ocean. I flag down a passing taxi, opening the door for her.

"I had a really good time," she says, turning to face me. The streetlight catches the sparkle in her eyes.

"Me too." I mean it completely.

She leans forward and kisses my cheek, her lips soft against my skin. My fingertips tingle with the urge to pull her closer, but I resist.

"See you at the store?"

"Definitely." I smile, memorizing the way she looks in this moment, white dress glowing under the streetlights, its fabric dancing slightly in the evening breeze.

I hand the driver enough cash to cover her ride home plus extra. "Make sure she gets to her door safely," I tell him. "Take care." I give her a reassuring nod.

She nods, settling into the backseat. As the taxi pulls away, I watch until its taillights disappear around a corner. Relief washes over me. I've managed to get her safely away without incident.

I turn back toward the restaurant, considering my next move. The Colombian didn't seem to notice me during dinner. Maybe I'm in the clear.

But something tugs at me, curiosity, maybe, or the instinct for self-preservation. What's he doing here? Is it coincidence, or something more?

I adjust my pink suit jacket and make a decision. I'll follow him when he leaves. Just to be sure.