“Hmm, I’m intrigued.” He leans down to kiss me, letting it linger for longer than a quick peck. Much longer.
“Oh,” he says, his lips against my jawline. “Don’t forget, we’re going to the Coldplay concert next month. Hayley’s been bugging me about it.”
“This suddenly reminded you of Coldplay?”
He smirks. “I just didn’t want to forget. I’m scared of Hayley.”
“When is it?”
“The second weekend of November. On a Friday. I think the tenth or the eleventh.”
I pull away as regret draws my brows together. “My parent’s anniversary is that Saturday. I’ll be busy with party prep and keeping my mom somewhat sane. She’d kill me if she knew I was going to spend the night before her big day at some concert.”
“Oh,” he softly exclaims with a furrow growing between his own brows. “I didn’t know your parents were having a party.”
“Yeah,” I explain. “It’s their fiftieth, so they’re throwing this big thing up in Malibu.”
He smooths his thumb over my cheek. “It’s fine,” he tells me.
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“Actually, I think you need to make it up to Hayley. She’s the one who’s been excited for this double date.”
“I will,” I promise. “We’ll…play pool again.”
“Hell no,” he argues, shaking his head in urgent protest. “Once was humiliating enough.”
I laugh, just as his hips press into me. “Fine then, I’ll think of something.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Grace
I’ve learnedred is really my color. It might be my fair skin tone and dark hair, making vibrant scarlet tones pop. It turns heads, especially when I pair it with red lips and wavy tresses pulled to one side. And that’s exactly how I’m dressed when Andrew knocks on my door. I’m greeted by him dressed in a dark charcoal suit and a large bouquet of red roses.
“I thought you might like the real ones this time.”
“Thank you.” I take them from him, the rich floral scent mixing with his spicy cologne. I notice his hair is slicked back, tamping down the wayward waves I love to run my fingers through. I turn toward the kitchen to set the beautiful arrangement on the counter, and when I turn to face Andrew, I see he’s keeping a considerable amount of distance between us.
He eyes me, up and down, and I realize the purposeful space is so he can admire me. Take in all of me the way one would take in a painting, appreciating the array of details you’d miss at the edges out of your periphery if you were to be standing too close.
“You look amazing, Grace.” I didn’t expect him to react this way, seeing me in anything but my unremarkable work clothes or wrinkled pajama pants. He looks surprised. Almost speechless.
“You look shocked that I look good in a dress.”
He closes the space between us, looping his hand around my waist. “I just can’t believe you’re my girlfriend. That’s all.”
I roll my eyes, though the compliment hooks all the way to my chest, tugging at my insides and stirring them awake. “Stop blowing smoke up my ass.”
“What?” He sounds genuinely insulted. “Why would you think I don’t think my girlfriend is beautiful?”
“You’ve seen me in a dress,” I point out. “Don’t act like this is something new.”
He cups my cheek, running his thumb over my jaw. “Every time I see you, I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time.”
This time, I don’t shoo away his flattery. In fact, it doesn’t feel like he’s sweet-talking me at all. He sounds sincere.
“How come you didn’t use your key?”
