Chapter 33 #2
“What are your plans today?” Cole asks.
“Nothing exciting just working in the shop until closing time.” I look up at him. “You?”
“Have to go into work for a few hours. Blake has some concerns about uneven ripening across the blocks that I’ll probably have to take a look at.”
He stands and stretches, and I watch him from the couch, my eyes drifting over him. He really is ridiculously handsome.
He catches me checking him out. “Stop that.” He smirks, clearly enjoying the attention.
“I’m not doing anything.” I bat my eyelashes, feigning innocence.
“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll end up back in bed and never make it out for our date.”
Our date. Shit. I nearly forgot that it’s tonight.
He reaches down and tips my chin up to kiss me, a dizzying, drug-inducing kiss.
When he pulls back I’ve forgotten where I am for a second.
“I’ll be back at six,” he says.
“You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going.”
“No.”
“Not even a hint.”
“Not even a hint.” He opens the door. “Six o’clock, doll. Be ready.”
I’ve been standing in front of my closet for twenty minutes.
There’s a pink dress hanging on the hook on the back of my bathroom door where I put it this morning after Cole left. I was fully decided on it but started second-guessing myself about an hour ago. It’s too fancy. Too formfitting. Just too much.
Despite trying to talk myself out of it, I can hear Layla’s voice in my head. Telling me it’s perfect and that it hugs my curves like it was made for me and it’s not too fancy because it’s a simple satin material, and that my boobs look great in it.
Shutting the closet door, I straighten my shoulders and take a deep breath. I’m wearing the pink dress. I can do it. And I think Cole would like it, especially the boob part.
I pad to the bathroom and start on my makeup, keeping it simple.
I’ve learned that simple looks best on me.
Enough to feel special and glamorous but still like myself.
A light coverage foundation, blush that mirrors my natural one, a few swipes of mascara, and a tinted balm that looks like my lips, but better.
Duchess appears in the bathroom doorway and sits down, eyes scrutinizing me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her.
She blinks once, unimpressed.
“I’ll give you treats before I leave.”
She likely doesn’t understand me ninety-nine percent of the time but she knows the word treats, because my answer pleases her enough to saunter away and curl up on the couch.
I look at myself in the mirror. At my slightly too-bright eyes and the flush already sitting high on my cheeks, neither of which has anything to do with the makeup I just applied.
Something about this feels different than any other time we’ve made plans. I know it’s our first date date, but we’ve done so much more than dates—it shouldn’t be as nerve-racking, and yet I feel a bit like a wreck.
Since Layla is the only one who knows the truth, I fire off a text to her.
Do you think it’s a real date or fake date? Like, it’s for show, right?
LAYLA
It’s a real date. Get your head out of your ass.
But do you think HE thinks it’s a real date??
LAYLA
YES!!!
But how do you know?
Dots appear and disappear and then she’s calling me.
I pick up on the first ring.
“Because,” Layla says, without preamble, “that man hasn’t done one fake thing since you two started this mess. He. Likes. You. It’s clear as day.”
“Maybe he’s just a really good actor.”
She lets out a rumbling laugh. “No he’s not. If that’s an act then he deserves an Oscar. Men are notoriously terrible at anything that requires more than just their dicks to think with.”
“I just don’t know. I’m confused. Maybe I’m totally off-base.”
“Here’s an idea—why don’t you just ask him? Talk to him. Communicate. Believe it or not, that would solve literally all your problems.”
“I don’t want to assume. Do you know how embarrassing it would—”
“Ariana! For the love of God. Just talk to him. You’re going to drive yourself mad wondering. Put yourself out of this misery and talk to him.”
“I’m scared,” I admit, almost in a whisper.
She sighs through the phone. “I know, but do it anyway. Be scared. All the best things happen when you’re terrified. Trust me.”
Sometimes I forget Layla is a little bit like our brother Gavin—she thrives off the constant rush of adrenaline. Probably why she’s going to be the most kickass RN the emergency room has ever seen.
“It’s real,” Layla says firmly. “He is taking you on a real date because he has real feelings and you have real feelings and the only fake thing left in this situation is the story you keep telling yourself about it.”
“Okay,” I drawl, defeated but also a little hopeful.
“Good.” She sounds satisfied. “How do your boobs look?”
“I don’t know, I’m not dressed yet.”
She makes a frustrated huff. “Then get off the phone and finish getting ready. And also send me a picture!”
“Fine.” I laugh, some weight lifting off my chest.
“Ari.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s going to be okay. No matter what.” She says it simply. “And if it doesn’t work out with Cole, you will be fine. I’ll kill him, obviously, but you’re smart and beautiful and funny and hot and any guy would be lucky to have you. Seriously.”
“Do you ever feel weird complimenting how I look when we’re twins?”
“Never. Because I’m beautiful and hot so it’s basically further confirmation.”
Shaking my head, I laugh because no one is more confident than Layla. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
As soon as we’re off the phone I finish getting ready, adding a small wave to my hair and slipping into my dress.
I’m spritzing some perfume onto my wrist when the buzzer goes off.
My heart rate quadruples in speed, the air in my lungs stilling.
God, I’m nervous.
This date is going to go one of two ways. It’ll either be the best thing to happen to me in a long time or it’ll break my heart into pieces.
No pressure whatsoever, right?
I buzz him up and in less than a minute he’s knocking on the door.
I open it to find Cole leaning against the doorframe in dark trousers and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his forearms and his collar open just enough. He looks up when the door swings open and his eyes widen, blue irises disappearing under blown pupils.
He does a slow pass, from the hem of the dress up to my face, and I feel the heat of his appreciation low in my belly.
He clears his throat. “You look…”
Holding my breath, I wait for him to finish.
“…so goddamn beautiful.”
He brings his fist to his mouth and bites down on his knuckle, eyes still moving over me like he doesn’t know where to look first.
I’ve never had a man look at me the way Cole is looking at me right now, let alone bite his knuckle while doing it.
I think it causes my brain to short-circuit a little.
“Thank you,” I exhale, channeling all the composure I can manage. “You look very nice too.”
He drops his hand and gives me a look that tells me very nice doesn’t begin to cover what he’s thinking, which is fair because very nice doesn’t begin to cover what I’m thinking either.
“Ready?” He holds out his hand.
I take it. “Ready.”
He still hasn’t told me where we’re going. Not on the elevator ride down. Not during the short walk to his truck. Not even as we drive out of town.
“One hint,” I try.
“Nope.”
The satisfied smile that spreads across his lips has my stomach fluttering.