My jaw drops. "Really?" My voice comes out sharp. "No 'Hey, Keira, you look nice, pretty maybe, in your dress'? Just okay?"
I put my hands on my hips for a moment and then toss my hands up in the air.
"You know what," I continue, "I don't even know why I asked you."
I storm past him toward the door, but I catch the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.
Bastard.
I walk out to the car and wait for him to open my door to the backseat, but he passes me and goes around to the passenger side.
"If I'm going to be acting as your date for this event," he says, opening the door, "then you sit next to me."
I hesitate for a second. Sure, it makes sense, and it's not like I haven't ridden in the passenger seat once or twice. It's lonely in the back anyhow.
I walk around and slide in. He closes the door gently, and I watch him walk around, adjusting his jacket. As he does, the headlights reflect off his gun, and it's a reminder of how things are going to be tonight. My chest gets a little tight as I really think about everything. Honestly, I've been so focused on the planning, Shadowharbor intel, my dad, everything, I haven't really taken into account the reasons he's here, the reason my brothers or Calli aren't coming.
I shake my head as Octavian gets in. I have no other choice, and a small part of me is grateful he's at least going to be with me.
The drive to the event is quiet. Silence, as usual, from him. I smooth my hands over my dress, then play with the clasp on my clutch. Then smooth my hands again. I'm nervous and a little fidgety. I check my lipstick in the mirror, do anything to keep the jitters at bay.
We stop at a red light, and I glance over at him and catch him looking at me.
Not just a glance. A look. The same unreadable expression he gave me the other day in the library doorway when he caught me crying after Callum's news, and I couldn't hold myself together anymore.
"What?" I ask.
"You're worried about tonight."
"What makes you say that?"
His eyes glance back to the road as the light turns green. "You're rigid. Your hands won't stop moving. Your face is too tense."
He pauses.
"And you asked what I thought."
Heat crawls up my neck. "Well, aren't you just Mr. Observer. Always watching people, huh? You take notes on everyone, or just women you want to irritate?"
"Just you," he says, glancing at me again. "I just take notes on you."
He looks back at the road.
My breath catches, and instead of my normal feelings, it's a low heat that washes over me.
I force a scoff. "Well, in your little notebook of me, write down that if I ever decide to ask you what you think about my appearance, say something more than 'okay.' Actually, better yet, put that in your notebook of life. You'll do much better with women."
His smile widens. "You don't think I do well with women?"
My eyes drop to his full lips before I can stop myself.
Dammit.
I look away, out the window. "Well, I don't know. Do you just stare at them from across the room before you approach? Say things like 'I'm only here to keep you alive'?" I drop my voice into a ridiculous deep impression to match his.
He laughs.
Holy shit, he laughs.
