Angel liked the way the restaurant was set up. As you walked in, there was a podium behind which a man stood. He was taking reservations and seating the people. Since the restaurant was too small to have two seperate sections for the smoking and the non-smoking, the owner had apparently banned smoking by anyone. Taylor gave the waiter his name, and he said he had a reservation. The man escorted them to a private room upstairs where they were to be seated by themselves. The table was small, but there was just enough room to seat two people. Atop the table were two candles, a bunch of silverware for who-knows-what, plates, and two glasses.

"Your server will be with you in a minute," said the man in a heavy French accent. He smiled at them, and he turned and descended the staircase, up which they had come.

"Taylor, this is absolutely wonderful!" Angel exclaimed.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, smiling at her.

Just then, their waiter came up the steps to the room. "Here are your menus, and my name is Jean-Francois. I will be your server this evening. Do you know what you would like to drink?"

Angel looked at the menu. Deciding that she was a little cold, she decided to order the hot chocolate in hopes that it would warm her up. When she was done placing her order, Taylor asked for a root beer, and Jean-Francois disappeared down the stairs.

"Thank you, Taylor," Angel whispered, taking his hand. "I love this."

"I love you," he replied, kissing her fingers, palm, and the back of her hand.

"I love you too."

Jean-Francois returned once again with their beverages and a basket of bread. He waited while they looked over the menu.

Angel wasn't quite sure what she wanted to eat. She was having a tough time deciding. She finally settled on chicken soup for an appetizer and braised beef over spinach ravioli as a main meal. She handed the waiter her menu, and she waited patiently for Taylor to order. He apparently had an even more difficult time than she did determining what exactly he wanted for dinner. Taylor could see that Jean-Francois was becoming impatient, and he finally gave up and ordered the exact same thing as Angel.

Jean-Francois left the room, leaving Taylor and Angel to talk.

"Taylor?"

"Hmm?"

"I just have to know," Angel began, "what exactly do your parents think about this whole thing. I'm mostly talking about the nights we spend together, but I want to know about everything in general."

"Well, my mom just thinks it's cute. I don't really think she knows how far we've gone, but I'm certainly not about to tell her." Taylor blushed as he spoke, "And I'm not really sure about my dad. I think he kinda knows what's going on, but I don't know if he thinks he needs to worry about it. He knows I'm responsible, but I do get the feeling that I'm going to be getting one of those fun sex talks in the very near future. I'm pretty surprised that they don't have a major problem with it like I'm sure they would if it had been Ike or Zac, but I'm certainly not one to complain."

"I'm glad your parents are okay with it. Mine are another story, though. I really hate them both. My mom thinks that being with you is somehow hazardous to my health, and she makes sure everyone knows what she thinks. I don't think my dad is in favor of what my mom is doing, but I hate him for not telling her so," said Angel, looking into Taylor's eyes.

They both leaned forward, and Taylor brushed his lips against Angel's. They quickly pulled apart, however, when Jean-Francois re-entered the room with their meals.