And then silence falls over us.
Because I’m awkward. And now I’m thinking about him on another level.
A level I shouldn’t even consider.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—Halsey is not my type. I’ve never thought of him as someone who checks the boxes. However, I’m learning that maybe my boxes have changed.
He’s...protective. Charming. Attentive. Engaged. Genuine. I don’t feel as though I’m competing with him like I did with Perry. He’s thoughtful. Contained. Generous. Handsome.And sexy.
It’s as though he’s got everything I never knew I wanted. Which means he currently checksallmy boxes.
We stare at each other for a few seconds before he shifts uncomfortably and says, “Uh, your dress?”
“Right.”Shit, come on, Blakely.
Spinning on my heel, I grab it from the hanger that’s hanging on my closet door. I step into the bathroom and barely shut the door before tearing off my robe and tossing it over the sink counter. I slip into my dress, deciding to go without a bra, since the boned bodice does all of the work, and I zip the dress up as much as I can before I head into the bedroom again, where I find Halsey standing in my room, hands in his pockets, staring at the floor.
When he notices I exit the bathroom, his eyes slowly rise until they find me and then . . . they roam.
They roam from my feet, up my legs to where the slit stops at my upper thigh, to the waist of the dress, and then the bodice that clings so expertly to me. I catch his Adam’s apple bob before he steps up to me.
“Turn around,” he says in a low, dark voice.
My mouth goes dry as I turn around and then shift my hair to the side.
His hands find the zipper, and he slowly pulls it up until it’s fully secure. To my surprise, he takes my hair from my hand and drapes it back over my shoulders.
My eyes connect with his when I turn around, and I quietly say, “Thank you.”
He moves his hand over his jaw. “You look gorgeous, Blakely.”
My cheeks flame. “Thank you. I, uh . . . I just need to slip on my shoes.”
“Need help?” he asks.
“Oh no, I’m good,” I say, fumbling to move around him and get to my nude-colored pumps. “Oh, sorry, just need to reach those.”
“These?” he asks, bending at the waist to pick up the shoes.
“Yup, those. Plan on wearing them unless you want to wear them.” I look up at him and swallow hard when I see his brow is raised in a cute, quizzical way. “Do you?”
“Do I want to wear your shoes?”
I laugh because, Jesus, am I nervous now. “I mean, of course you don’t. You would be at a high risk of rolling your ankle again if you did.”
“Yeah, rolling an ankle is the reason I don’t want to wear your shoes,” he says in a joking tone.
“Right . . .” I slip my shoes on and meet his eyes.Pull it together, Blakely.But I can’t. I’m all shaky and jittery inside and can’t stop myself from blurting out, “I’m nervous.”
His brow pinches. “Nervous. Why?”
I shake my hands out. “I don’t know.” Actually I do know.It’s you, you’re the reason I’m nervous.But I know I can’t say that to him. “I’ve never done this before. This fake dating thing. I’m nervous about seeing Perry. I don’t want him cornering me to talk. I don’t want people asking me questions. I don’t—”
His fingers fall on my lips, silencing me. And as the room goes quiet, our eyes connect, his hazels to my greens.
Slowly, he lowers his fingers. The air around us feels thick like it’s trying to pull us together.
Gently, he says, “Let me worry about Perry, and you worry about enjoying your friends getting married.” He entwines our hands together. “As far as the fake dating, that’s easy, just pretend you’re into me.” Pretty sure I don’t have to pretend that. “Hold my hand, lean into me, dance with me. Unless you find me so repulsive you can’t do those things.”
