“You already are.” There’s my first slip up of the night. Quickly, I cover it up with a question. “Does this outfit make youfeelbeautiful?”
“No.” She gulps.
“You should be wearing something that you feel beautiful in. Ipromiseit translates to everyone around you.”
“Okay.” Sutton chews on the inside of her cheek. “But?—”
“Let me show you.” I stand up and head into her closet.
In my hands as I walk back out is a black slip dress with 3-D, multi-colored butterflies all over it.
Sutton spins to face me, still fidgeting with the hem of the mini skirt. “You should wear this,” I suggest.
Sutton takes the hanger from me, holding it in front of her body in the mirror.
“I love this dress.”
“I’d love to take it off of you.” There’s a second slip up. My filter must be on break because I didn’t even think twice before saying it.
“Do you think about doing that?”
This isn’t a real date.
But this…this can be good. I can admit the truth and deem it a lesson.
“Yes.”
“How often?” Neither one of us skips a beat. Eyes beating into each other through the mirror.
“More often than I should.”
Her eyes narrow as she says, “You should stop doing that.”
“I’ve tried.” Damn, I sound desperate. “Get changed, Dave, we don’t want to be late.”
Sutton reachesfor the duck on my dash. Runs the tips of her fingers over it delicately, and I flick my gaze to her face. Catch a reminiscent smile before turning my eyes back to the road.
She’s been quiet after asking a million questions about what we are doing tonight, and my only response wasyou’ll see.
My grip is tight on the steering wheel as I pull my Jeep into the parking lot and cut the ignition. Sprinting around my car, my palm slips on the handle. I’m nervous.
“The community center?” she questions, climbing out of the car, bypassing my extended hand for help.
If I was a betting man, I’d have bet Sutton was expecting me to take her to a romantic dinner. I suppose in a way, I am, but instead of sitting down to eat, we’re making our dinner.
I mumble out an inaudible answer.
“What was that?”
“You’ll see,” I clearly enunciate.
We head to the entrance, the large poster that caught my attention the other day is still hanging up in a window.
Sutton hesitates, reading the bold letters.
If there’s one thing to know about Sutton, it’s that she loves rom-coms. There isn’t one she hasn’t seen at least a hundred times or can’t recite. Her favorite beingThe Princess Diaries.
The community center in downtown Bensen hosts an assortment of classes and events. Conveniently, tonight is a themed rom-com cooking class; and they’re showing none other thanThe Princess Diaries.When I was running through downtown, the flyer wrangled my attention, dragging me inside to reserve us two spots—which I had to beg for and promise tickets to our upcoming sold-out game against Yale.
