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I look down, following his line of sight, and then feel my face warm. “Oh… yeah… this…” I mumble and then clear my throat. “I went to see them like four years ago with my mom.”
I wasn’t aware of my breasts a minute ago. Seriously, I completely forgot they existed. But after one little innocent look from Emmett, they feel warm and heavy. Tingling with every little breath I take.
“Ah, so your mom is the fan,” he says, the corners of his lips tipping up as he cuts his eyes back to the road.
“Yeah,” I answer as I give into the urge to cross my arms.
“What kind of music do you like?” Emmett asks, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel again. “No… let me guess—”
“Taylor Swift!” Casey cackles, cutting Emmett off.
I could honestly care less about Taylor Swift, but I’m curious to know why Casey would think liking her music is funny. Is it because she’s a girl?
“What’s wrong with Taylor?” I ask defensively.
“I knew it!” Casey exclaims and cackles some more like it’s the funniest thing.
Brow furrowing, I look to Emmett for an explanation.
“There’s nothing wrong with Taylor Swift…” he hedges, and the way he’s looking at everywhere but me, it’s obvious something about this is definitely making him uncomfortable.
“But?” I push, again feeling like I’m being left out of the loop and not liking it one bit.
“He thinks you look like her!” Casey supplies before doubling over in a fit of laughter.
It takes a second for Casey’s words to fully sink in, but when they do I find myself rounding on Emmett. “You do?”
Emmett drops his chin and shakes his head, still refusing to meet my eyes as he mutters, “Dammit, Casey. Is nothing sacred?”
Uncrossing my arms, I reach over and poke him in the side. “Hey, I asked you a question.”
Turning off the road, Emmett pulls us into a driveway and parks the car in front of a house before he finally turns to face me.
I thought I was prepared for his full, undivided attention. After all, I did poke him and ask for it…
But as he gives me that look, the one where his gaze cuts through all the walls I’ve built up, straight to the core of me, I regret my boldness.
“Yeah, I think you look like her,” he answers slowly, his gaze never wavering. “But prettier.”
Prettier… It’s such a small compliment, easily discarded, and of absolutely no importance, yet it hits me hard.
When was the last time I heard a compliment? A true compliment that wasn’t given by my mom?
I can’t even recall it’s been so long.
The only compliments I ever got out of Tristan were backhanded and meant to make me feel self-conscious. He especially liked to pick on my weight. And my father… has he ever complimented me? When I think about him, all I can think of is all his demands.
“Prettier?” I find myself repeating as my eyes search Emmett’s eyes, looking for any sign that he’s teasing me because I want to believe him.
I want it more than I should.
Emmett leans toward me, his face serious, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
Reaching out, his fingers brush a chunk of my hair behind my ear as he says, “A thousand times more beautiful, baby girl.”
The tips of his fingers drag down my cheek to the line of my jaw, and my entire face tingles from his touch.
I find myself trapped, unable to move as I try to savor the feelings he creates so easily inside me. Savor them like a sweet piece of candy that’s going to melt away before I’m done with it.
