Or when I’m walking back to the salon, through the busy streets of L.A, with takeout food in my hands.
While they might actually not be judging me, itfeelslike they are, because that’s all my mom ever did.
Your boobs are too big for that top.
Are you really going to wearthatskirt? It’s a little short, you can see everything.
People would be able to see your pretty face if you lost weight.
It’s a shame your thighs are so thick. With a waist as small as yours, you could actually have a body a man would want if you tried a little.
But I heard the last of it today, and I can say that with complete certainty.
“So, what did you think?” I ask, my belly full of food, and no feeling of guilt in sight. Not from him now that the creek scene has been shot, and certainly not from me.
“It was fine, I guess.” He shrugs, lips tugging up at the sides. Those dark eyes twinkle under the light from the credits rolling on the huge screen in front of us, and I have to force myself to look away.
The sun has completely set, and the sky alight with stars, but all I see is him.
“Oh, come on. You know it was one of the best movies you’ve ever seen,” I say with full confidence, and a smile that hasn’t left my face since we walked out of the diner. I finally understand what people mean when they say their face hurts from laughing too much.
Pulling my seatbelt over my chest, he buckles it in for me. He doesn’t answer, he just stares at me with a gentle smile, taking my hand in his.
“Home?” he asks, and I nod. I like the way that sounds on his lips.
“You don’t want to stay for your favorite movie?” I ask to make sure, and he shakes his head in response.
“I’ve seen it enough times, and there’s something else I want to watch instead.” He wiggles his brows, swiping his tongue back and forth over his bottom lip, and my underwear soaks.
“My place or yours?”
“Yours,” he replies, kissing the back of my hand, but I don’t turn on the ignition.
Instead, I say the one thing that’s been on my mind for who knows how long.
“Hey, Cole?”
“Yeah, Snow?” He turns to face me.
“Do you thinkthiscould be classed as that date you wanted to take me on?” I ask shyly, glad it’s too dark to see the redness that I know colors my cheeks.
I’m not asking because Iwantto date him, but this kind of feels like one.
“That depends,” he replies, and says nothing else.
“On what?”
“Promise me that when this is all over, you’ll give us a shot. We don’t go back to being strangers. And we don’t end. Because, God, Snow, I’m not ready for it to end.”
What?
My mouth opens, and snaps shut with no attempt at getting a word out.
Coward.
“Think about it, OK? Don’t just say ‘no’ because it's all you’ve ever known.”
I nod, and we spend the rest of the drive listening to love songs on the radio, the wind flapping through our open windows, and my hair sticking to my freshly-balmed lips.
