Knowing that he might have actual feelings for me worries me a little. Relationships aren’t my thing. They never have been, and they never will be. I’m still navigating my feelings towards him, just as a human, let alone romantically.
He’s a good-looking guy.
Okay. He’s more than good looking. He’s fucking gorgeous. He’s been on the cover ofB&Cowebsite and magazine for God’s sake. His jawline is sharp, he has a dimple that appears every once and a while, his eyes are so fucking green it’s scary. But what’s more attractive is his vulnerability and his honesty. I’ve never met a guy as in tune with their emotions as him. If he’s upset, you know. If he’s angry, you know. If he’s uncomfortable or needs something to squash his compulsions, you know. He doesn’t hide things from me, and I appreciate that.
After our new truce was established, I even took his plane back to Salt Lake with him. We didn’t speak for much of the plane journey. It was still a bit awkward. There was only one large TV on his plane so we ended up arguing over who could choose the movie. We landed on‘Dunkirk.’I only wanted to watch it for Harry Styles, and he was obsessed with the Second World War when he was in high school. Weirdly enough, I didn’t make fun of him for it. We just sat and watched the movie in silence. He did glance over at me every time Harry appeared on the screen though.
The new friendship thing we’ve established is theonlyreason I’m calling him right now. My mom suggested an impromptu dinner at home with all my siblings, excluding Alexander. She made it very clear that I needed a date. She even added in some very Oscar-worthy sniffles and insisted that it is ‘what my dad would have wanted’ as if he’s gone already. After visiting him this morning, confirming that he’s still stable, I’m getting ready in my room, waiting for Evan to pick up the call.
“Hello?” he asks when it finally connects.
“You took your time,” I mumble.
“I was busy.”
“Well, I was hoping you weren't. I need a date to come with me to my family dinner. My mom made it very clear that she wanted to meet someone I’m seeing, and I don’t have the energy to scour through dating apps to find someone not serial killery to bring. So, I was thinking you could come, but if you're busy, it’s fine,” I say in one go, rambling like a fool.
“Oh, so you cry to me one time and now you think you’re entitled to favours?”
“Fine, I’ll call someone else,” I drawl.
“What time do you want me there?”
“I thought you were busy?”
“I’m not anymore,” he says easily. “What time, Scar?”
“I’ll send you the address. Meet me outside the estate in an hour. Don’t knock and wait till I get there,” I instruct. “And wear something appropriate.”
“Obviously. I’m not an idiot, Angel. I’m about to have dinner with five millionaires.”
“Fourmillionaires,” I correct. “My mom just hit a billion, so you better tell her that and you’ll be on her good side.” I’m only bending the truth a little, so he’ll be on his best behaviour. Not much would take my mom to like someone. Especially since she thinks it’s someone I'm ‘dating.’ She’d be thrilled whoever it is.
“Yes, boss,” he replies. “I’ll see you there.”
* * *
Exactly an hour later, I’m standing outside the huge doors watching Evan’s escalade pull up into the driveway. I don’t know why I’m nervous. Maybe it’s because I don’t usually bring my dates here and my mom is expecting some respected gentleman who will sweep me off my feet and help me settle down. Evan is not that person. Still, I know he can put on a good show when necessary.
I adjust my black dress for the hundredth time, trying to pull it down my thighs as I watch him climb out of the car. It’s not as tight as the ones I usually wear, but it shows off a little cleavage and cuts off halfway down my thighs. My hair is tied into a low ponytail, a few flyaways at the front and my black bow in the back.
I look and I feel hot as fuck.
Evan smiles at me when he sees me, holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. God, he’s such a cliche. Luckily, my mom loves roses. He’s wearing a tailored navy suit and a white shirt. He’s also wearing a tie to match, but it’s not tied properly. He looks annoyingly good.
“You look lovely, Miss Voss,” he drawls when he gets to me, even bowing for extra effect. He holds the roses in one hand, his other shoved inside his pocket, standing tall.
“And you look like you’re trying too hard,” I say, grabbing onto his lapels to pull him into me. He stumbles a little but manages to regain his balance as he opens his arms a little to give me better access to his tie. My hands are shaking, but I do my best to fiddle with it, tightening it so it looks presentable. I can feel his eyes on me as I keep mine strained on his tie and chest. I can tell that he’s not looking at my face. When I’m done, I tap the space between my eyes and say, “My eyes are up here, you perv.”
He snaps his eyes to me, and I swear he blushes. It’s hard to tell. It’s freezing outside, so it could be because of the cold. Still, I smile to myself, knowing that in one way or another, my proximity affects him; possibly as much as his affects me.
He plucks a flower from the bouquet and hands it to me. “Uh, thanks.”
“I asked for a dozen, and they gave me thirteen. I think they wanted it to be an extra one, but it just pissed me off. Uneven numbers and all,” he explains, avoiding my eyes.
“Thirteen is supposed to be a lucky number,” I say, retrieving the flower. He shoves his hand back in his pocket, fidgeting with the seam of his trousers.
“Says who?”
