“Oh, sunshine, if you could only see the effect you have on people.” There's something in his voice that makes me study his face more carefully. I'm suddenly aware of how close we're sitting, how his hand is still resting on the back of the couch near my shoulder.
“What else do you want to know?” Brandon says, breaking the spell.
“Right.” I clear my throat. “I guess tell me what I don't know.”
“Well, you know that being confident is key, but that confidence comes from knowing what you want and not being afraid to go after it.”
“What if I don't know what I want?”
“You do know.” His voice drops lower, more certain. “You're just scared to admit it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I watch you make decisions all day long. You know exactly what you want when it comes to your clients, your career, your life.” He adjusts his position, too, angling toward me until our knees are almost touching. “The only time you second-guess yourself is when it comes to this.”
“This?”
“Going after something that matters to you personally instead of professionally.”
The way he's looking at me makes my skin feel too warm. Like he can see something I'm not ready to acknowledge.
“The trick is learning to trust your instincts instead of overthinking everything,” he continues, his voice quieter now.
“My instincts?” The word comes out breathier than I intended.
“Like right now.” He leans forward slightly, closing the space between us by inches. “What are your instincts telling you to do?”
The question hangs in the air. I can smell his cologne, something clean and masculine that makes me want to lean closer. His eyes drop to my lips for just a fraction of a second before meeting mine again.
My heart is beating so hard that I'm sure he can hear it. The honest answer is that my instincts are screaming at me to close the remaining distance between us, to put my lips on his again and forget all about Mason and trivia night and everything except the way Brandon is looking at me right now.
“I should probably go get ready for bed,” I whisper instead.
“Probably,” he agrees, but his voice is rough around the edges now.
Neither of us moves. The space between us feels electric, charged with something I don't have words for. His hand is resting on the back of the couch, close enough that if I shifted just slightly, his fingers would brush my shoulder.
I force myself to stand, my legs unsteady. “Good night, Brandon.”
“Night, Stella.”
I can feel his eyes following me as I cross to his bedroom. When I reach the doorway, I risk a glance back and find him still watching me, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
In the bedroom, I close the door behind me and lean against it, my heart still racing. I head to the small section of his closet where I've hung a few clothes.
I pull out a few options, but my mind keeps drifting to the black dress with the square neckline. The one that made Brandon notice me at Natalie's party. The one that made him remember exactly how I looked, almost a year later. I shake my head and focus. Trivia at a dive bar calls for something more casual.
But as I settle on dark jeans and a fitted emerald top that brings out my eyes, I can't help but wonder why Brandon's opinion suddenly seems to matter more than Mason's.
twenty-one
. . .
Stella
I pace outside 33 Taps,adjusting my top. The soft fabric hugs my curves just right, and paired with my favorite dark jeans and ankle boots, I feel good.
“Stella, you're going to wear a hole in the sidewalk,” Natalie says as she walks up to meet me. She grabs my arm to stop my pacing. “And your shoes are too cute to ruin.”
