Her skin has that olive undertone that makes it look warm even in the dark, like the night can’t quite drain the color out of her. My eyes drop to her lips for a fraction of a second.
Fuck. She noticed.
I force my gaze back up to those eyes that make it a little too easy to forget how to breathe.
“It’s good now,” I say under my breath, my gaze still caught on her, like the rest of the world has gone quiet.
And even in the dark, I swear I see her blush.
I shift in my seat, trying to bleed some of the tension out of my body, and make myself keep going.
“You didn’t answer my question. I don’t want to make you nervous.”
“Aren’t you nervous too?”
I could lie. Easily. But something about the way she’s looking at me makes it feel pointless. Like I want her to know exactly what she’s doing to me.
“I’m freaking out on the inside,” I admit, a quiet laugh slipping out with it when she laughs back, relieved. So I continue.
“What do you like to read?” I ask.
She inhales like she needs a second to think, then glances down before answering.
“Anything with a good story,” she explains. “But there has to be romance,” she adds, visibly shy.
I don’t get why she sounds shy about it. Isn’t that what makes life worth it? I’ve only just started to realize that.
“Can you lend me your favorite book?”
“Why?”
“So I know what kind of romance you like,” I reply, keeping my tone casual even though the words land heavier than I meant them to.
Color rises into her face so fast it almost startles me, and suddenly she’s too quiet.
Right.
Too honest.
I shift slightly and try to smooth it over before I ruin this.
“And so I know what keeps you up at night.” I let the pause sit between us for a second before adding, with a small smirk, “Besides me.”
She narrows her eyes, fighting a smile.
“What makes you think you have that kind of power over me?”
I tilt my head, pretending to think, my voice softer now.
“I hope I do. Because if I don’t, then it’s only me losing my mind over this, and that would make me feel quite pathetic."
She laughs and I can’t help it, my eyes drop to her lips again. I quickly look away and rub my hand through my hair since I don’t know where to put it. I rest my other hand on the steering wheel, my knuckles white with the tension.
“Can I ask you something?” she says tenderly.
“Anything.”
She shifts in her seat nervously, brushing a loose wavy strand of hair behind her ear.
