Jesus.
My curls must be a mess from the shower earlier.
Does he like curls?
Fuck, focus.
Walk.
Just walk.
Slow, Juliet.
Slow.
His eyes are still on me.
I feel them. Burning across my spine, down the backs of my knees.
Watching.
Tracking.
Measuring.
I walk too fast.
Abort. Abort. Abort.
Just leave the fucking mall.
The sun greets me, like I didn’t just have a meltdown in the bra section.
I will not have another Callum moment.
These men have to get their shit together.
Let me court them like civilized people should behave.
Stages. Informed. Thoughtful.
Not... whatever the hell just happened.
I head to my car.
Keys already in my hand.
Hell, he could be all manner of things that just won’t fit with us.
I should have got that bra. It was cute.
I didn’t even get the perfume I came for.
By the time I get to the car, my heart’s doing that dumb gallop thing again.
I slide into the driver’s seat.
Grip the wheel with one hand.
