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“It depends on if I like the drink." He flashed her a grin. "You'll like it. Soft or hard?" Rosemary's brain went straight to the gutter. "Hard, please." Ellis pulled out a bottle of dark spiced rum, lemon juice, and a smaller curved bottle of maple syrup. He measured out the shots, filled the shaker with ice, and, with a firm smack, pushed the glass and shaker together. She watched, a little transfixed, as Ellis shook the liquid back and forth, his forearms flexing, before he dislodged the two pieces and sifted the cocktail into an elegant coupe glass. Ellis handed her the glass. "Tell me what you think." The liquid was a deep golden color. Rosemary took a small sip; the spiciness of the rum hit her first, an exquisite burning down her throat. And then the sweet smokiness of the maple syrup. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her skull because damn, this was delicious. "Fuck me," she moaned, immediately realizing the words that had just come out of her mouth. She wondered what point in this conversation might be a good time to crawl into a ball and die.” — Nadia El-Fassi