My makeup is done a little heavier, and I took the time to style my hair.
“You clean up well, Wayne,” I murmur to myself.
The doorbell rings, making my heart race.
“Lyla, Wyatt’s here!” my brother yells.
Grabbing my bag, I open my door and head down the stairs. As soon as Wyatt sees me, his eyes widen, and my breath catches. He’s standing next to the door with black slacks on and a light blue button-down shirt. His hair is messy, like he ran his hand through it on the drive over. I’ve seen him dressed like this before games, and it still takes my breath away.
He’s so good-looking, and he doesn’t even know it.
“You look beautiful,” he rasps, making my cheeks heat.
“Thank you.”
When I come to a stop next to him, he leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Do you really have to do that shit in front of me?” Will groans, making us laugh.
“Sorry man, I couldn’t help myself,” Wyatt says.
Will rolls his eyes. “Whatever, you two get out of here, and remember, Lyla, don’t rush home. I got Dad later.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
“You ready?” Wyatt asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He smiles as he takes my hand and pulls me out the door. Like the gentleman he is, he opens the passenger door for me, but before I can slip inside, he stops me.
“Everything okay?” I ask as I look up at him.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I say softly.
Wyatt leans down and presses his lips toward mine. I can’t help but shut my eyes and lean into his touch. Kissing him is like a religious experience that I don’t know how to explain. All too soon he pulls away.
“You really do look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I smile as I slip into the car.
I watch as he rounds the hood of his car to the driver’s side.
“So where are we going?” I ask as he gets in, starting it.
“I actually made reservations. I hope that’s okay?”
“That’s perfect, actually,” I tell him.
Thank God I decided to dress up.
On the drive we make idle chit-chat, catching up about how our classes went for the day, and he asks about when my next shift at the hospital is. It hits me how right this feels, talking about my day with him. It feels normal.
“Wait, are we eating here?” I ask in awe as we pull up to the valet of The Thistle.
“We are, if that’s okay with you.”
