I huff out a quiet laugh. “Yes, my love. Didn’t expect yourhairless thesaurus manto bring you flowers on our first date?”
Her eyes narrow, but there’s a smile tugging at her mouth. “Shut up.”
She takes them anyway. Carefully. Like I’ve handed her something sacred.
And then—fuck—then she actually lights up.
Then she’s moving fast, toward the kitchen. She reappears seconds later with a vase. I hover awkwardly in the doorway as she places the flowers into it, setting it on the coffee table.
I’m simply watching her admire the bouquet as she fusses over the stems and fixing the arrangement. “Come on, my love,” I murmur softly. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Late for what exactly?” she shoots back immediately, grabbing her apartment keys.
I just grin.
Her eyes narrow again. “Ruin—”
“Theo,” I correct lightly, already backing away.
“Don’t you dare be mysterious right now.”
I hold my hands up. “You’ll see.”
She groans, dramatic as hell, but follows me anyway. All while my whole stomach is vibrating with those sweet, fluttery little things because Charlotte is holding my hand.
She. Is. Holding. My hand.
By the time we reach my bike, she’s fully in huff mode. Looking absolutely fucking adorable.
“You better not drop me,” she warns.
I roll my eyes. And she promptly flips me off.
Laughing, I reach into the saddle compartment and pull out the second helmet. The one I definitely did not overthink buying.Beforeshe even came back from Craven Ridge. “Come here,” I rasp, pulling her closer gently.
She steps right in front of me, and I lift the helmet. Carefully guiding it over her head, fingers brushing her hair, tucking stray strands back so they don’t catch. “There,” I murmur, adjusting the strap beneath her chin. “Perfect.”
Her eyes flick up to mine through the visor, squinting in suspicion. “You’ve done this before?”
“Never.”
She goes quiet. Her studying gaze suddenly has me sweating with panic. Because I know what I just revealed. What I just implied. She’s theonly one.
I take the opportunity to quickly put my helmet on—hiding behind the mirrored visor. Then, climbing over, I tilt my head for her to hop on.
She hesitates for half a second before swinging her leg over behind me.
The moment her hands settle—tentative at first, then firmer—against my sides, I’m already melting.
Jesus fucking Christ.I might actually die.
Charlotte is on my bike.Holding onto me.
For a second, I just sit there, gripping the handlebars, trying to act like my entire soul didn’t just combust.
“You gonna drive or…” she mutters, leaning closer, “is this the whole date?”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “Woman.”
