“That is not what I mean.”
“I know.”
The streetlight catches on his face then, softening him. It makes him look less like the loud party version of Blake. He looks more like the man who watched me across a room and quietly volunteered to bring me home.
“What else?” he asks.
I hesitate.
Because the real answer is not one I’m ready to say out loud.
The real answer is:
I barely escaped someone who made my whole life feel small. Right now, you make me feel too much, too fast, and I don’t know if that’s dangerous or healing.
Instead, I say,“I’m a mess.”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
Then, very softly,“You seem like a woman who had to be strong for too long.”
My throat tightens.
I hate that he said exactly the right thing. I hate it even more that he says it without pity. Just… understanding.
I look away first.
Again.
“You make it really hard to dislike you,” I mutter.
“That sounds promising.”
“It wasn’t meant to.”
“Still counting it.”
We’re standing outside Zane’s building now. I’m close enough that I can see my reflection faintly in the glass doors behind Blake.
Purple dress. Smudged lipstick. Champagne still in my system. Car key in my hand that absolutely should not be there.
“This doesn’t mean yes,” I tell him.
“It means maybe.”
“It means I’m borrowing the car because apparently you’ve lost your mind.”
“And?”
“And…” I exhale.“And I’ll think about the date.”
Blake smiles then. Not smug. Not triumphant. Just pleased.
Like that was all he wanted.
“Good,” he says.
I point the key at him.“Temporary.”
