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Hmm?
“Your hair looks very nice, Ria,” Anthony agreed kindly.
Oh, right, yeah. My hair was a lot shorter now, trimmed down to my collarbones. It was also lighter—both in color and weight—fading from my natural chocolate brown to a honey blonde. I ran my fingers through the strands again and almost purred. Feathers and liquid silk.
“Addy,” Julie nudged, “what do you think?”
Adrien’s throat worked and he gave me a curt, professional nod. “Looks nice.”
“Thanks,” I muttered as his parents looked between us expectantly.
This wasn’t how couples greeted each other. They didn’t stand awkwardly apart, staring at one another from ten feet away. Even my alcohol-riddled brain knew that. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t get my body to initiate any physical contact. Because just the thought of slipping into Adrien’s arms ignited a hurricane of flutters in my stomach that I couldn’t make sense of.
Was it fear of rejection? Did I think he’d push me away in front of his parents if I tried to hug him? And why did it matter? Who cared if he was disgusted by the idea of touching me?
Adrien held out an inviting hand, his brows flicking once. We were being weird. This was awkward. I needed to move.
I stepped forward and slipped my fingers into his large palm, and then he took over. His warm hand curled around mine and he gently pulled me to him. My cheek pressed to his hard chest, my arm snaking around his waist. He felt… broad. And warm. Pleasant.
“Your hair does look very… nice,” he whispered. The words were too quiet for our small audience to overhear.
Swoosh.
I needed another drink. Or maybe it was the alcohol that was causing the fresh bout of swirls and unsteadiness.
“Breathe, Sanchez. It’s just a hug. It won’t kill you.” The light chuckle in his voice was laced with something I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
I released the lungful of air I’d been holding, but that turned out to be a mistake because it meant that I had to inhale again. I really hated how good he smelled.
And before my greedy lungs could defy my strict orders against another inhale, Adrien peeled himself away. He didn’t let go of my hand, though, and used his grip to guide me to the couch. We sat down, arms touching, knees brushing, and when I tried to slip my hand out of his grip, he gently squeezed it.No.
“Did you already have dinner?” Anthony asked. “I can fire up the grill if you want.”
Julie shook her head. “We were talking about ordering pizza if that works for you guys.”
“Sounds good. Shall we open a bottle of Pinot while we wait?”
“We spent the whole day drinking champagne,” Julie informed him happily.
Anthony kissed his wife’s plump, smiling cheek. “Good. Then you’re already warmed up, and we can dive into the hard stuff.”
She giggled and off they went, fingers intertwined. I watched as their backs retreated into the house, a little awe-struck. I wondered what it would feel like to find your person. A best friend. Someone who loved you and cared for you in such a—
“Sanchez?”
My gaze snapped to Adrien’s dark eyes and my heart kicked again.
His face spread into a slow grin, his lopsided dimples popping. Then he brought a hand to my chin and very gently pushed up, until my mouth closed. I hadn’t even realized it was hanging open.
“How drunk are you right now?” he teased.
“Um… just a bit.”
His chuckle was deep and dark, and it sent another swoop through my stomach. I didn’t like that feeling. It wasn’t supposed to happen.
“You had a good time?” he asked.
I sucked in a deep breath. “Well, there’s around fifty shopping bags worth of dresses and clothes and shoes that you’re going to have to return once we, uh, break up or whatever. I tried to stop her, I swear, but I’m not used to mom-guilt.”
