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"Look at me. What's wrong? Do I not look beautiful?" She pouted, though he couldn't see her.
He sighed defeatedly. "You do, Giselle."
"I do?" she asked innocently.
"Of course."
"Then why won't you look at me?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.
She shook her head. "So, closing your eyes won't cause an accident, but looking at me would?"
"You've no idea," he mumbled.
"Look at me!" she whined.
He slowed down the car and glanced at her once, waited a moment, exhaled a shaky breath, then glared back at the road, jaw tight. She was about to call him out for not looking properly when he glanced at her again. And again. And one more time.
She grinned. "See? No accident."
"Smart-ass." He shook his head, looking at her again, this time for a bit longer. His eyes softened. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he gulped. She shouldn't have felt it in her spine.
"How do I look?" she asked.
"I'll tell you when we reach there."
"Why not now?"
He sighed, shaking his head.
"Right," she answered for him, grinning, "you don't wanna cause an accident. Got it."
He smiled at her, warming her heart. She held his hand that rested on the gearshift but he did not attempt to hold it the way he usually did. A little embarrassed, she put her hand back in her lap, wondering why he was being distant.
Chris moved and she glanced at him. He took her hand from her lap, his fingers brushing over the bare skin of her thigh due to the slit in her dress. He placed her hand on the gear shift, covering it with his large one. As he shifted gears, his hand squeezed hers against the hard surface.
It sent tingles throughout her body.
Her breaths quickened as she stared at him, noticing how effortlessly handsome he was. The sharpness of his jaw, the well-groomed, stubble-length beard, his even lips, deep-brown eyes framed by jealous-worthy lashes.
Perfection.
He glanced at her once again and smirked. Her cheeks burned at being caught staring. She looked out of the window, painfully aware of her hand trapped underneath his, and stayed silent for the rest of the ride.
Once they reached the venue, Chris stopped the car, left her hand, and turned toward her. He called gently, "Giselle?"
She looked at him and smiled, realizing too late that it was more of a blush.
He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then touched her chin before he rested his hand on her thigh. The skin he touched tingled. Her heart picked up its pace. Did friends do that?
"You look perfect, Giselle," he said, his voice scratchy as if he was forcing the words out. His eyes searched hers. "As in, one of a kind, stop and stare, wish-you-were-mine perfect." He leaned in a little. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. They both gulped at the same time. "You look so gorgeous, I'm unable to breathe."
Did he just say "wish you were mine?"
Before she could respond, he got out of the car and gave the car keys to a valet. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
He didn't mean it that way, did he? Or else he wouldn't date Abby, of course. He just wanted me to know what kind of perfect I looked. Shit. Why can't I breathe properly?
