The aquamarine of his shirt makes the blue flecks pop, so his eyes are even more potent than usual. And if that combination wasn’t deadly enough, he’s clean-shaven, something I’ve never seen before.
The suit. The clean shave. The perfect shirt ... all of it looks so ... intentional.
This isn’t an old concert tee he threw on for an evening of lounging on my sofa and eating take out. He put thought into this. As if it were a real date. The idea is so unsettling, I almost don’t know how to handle it.
But that doesn’t mean it’s about me. Of course, he put thought into tonight. He’s representing his family. He may pretend not to care about his family connections, but I know he’d never purposefully embarrass them.
Of course, there’s also the possibility that he’s actually considering this job with his father. That he wants it. That he’s trying to earn it.
The thought makes me want to cry because it feels like we’re crossing some momentous threshold, and I’m not sure what our relationship looks like on the other side.
Yeah, that kind of thinking isn’t helpful. Besides, I’m one-hundred percent the person who makes a huge deal out of nothing and then feels silly afterwards. So, I shove all that anxiety deep and try to focus on this moment.
Though I almost miss the flicker of disappointment in his gaze.
“What?” I ask automatically. “What’s wrong?”
He looks me up and down, taking in my simple green maxi dress. “You didn’t like the dress I picked out for you, I guess.”
“It was gorgeous, just out of my price range.” I say, hoping honesty will help wash away the disappointment in his tone.
He smirks. “Right. I should have known you were never going to let me pay.”
I swallow, stung. Feeling his disappointment as deeply as my own, though, I try to shrug it off.
I give his arm a playful punch and say in my lamest, teasing voice. “You know I can’t be a moocher.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I guess not.”
There’s a bit of distance to his voice and resignation as well, and I can’t help but feel that in some tiny way my independence on this ruined something. Like I’ve hurt his feelings.
“Keegan, I—”
“You look great, though.” He cuts me off, his tone suddenly too cheerful.
“Y-you don’t look so bad yourself.” I say. It comes out breathy, and I stumble over my words.
I’m usually so relaxed around Keegan I either don’t stutter or I don’t notice it when I do.
He must realize that my stutter now makes me feel unexpectedly nervous around him, because he reaches out and nudges my chin. “Come on, Glasses. Don’t freeze up on me now. I love the sexy new hairstyle.” Then he blinks, takes a step back, blinks again, and says “Whoa. No glasses.”
“Contacts.”
“I thought you hated contacts.”
“Normally, but my eye doctor had been encouraging me to try this new brand. They’re formulated for dry eyes, so they shouldn’t bother me. It seemed like as good a time as any to try them.”
He gives me a long look, like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t. Then he takes my arm in his and guides me out of the house. Shutting the door behind me. “I guess it’s a good night to try new things.”
Before I can ask what he means by that, he takes my keys from my hand and locks the door. The gesture is oddly old-fashioned and reminds me of the old Doris Day romcoms I’ve watched with Thea.
Keegan leads me down my front path to the road, but I stop when there’s a black town car there instead of his Jeep.
“Did you rent that?”
Before he can answer, a driver gets out, scurries around on my side, and opens the door for me.
Keegan chuckles. “I don’t want to worry about driving later.”
