Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
BABY BLUE BY LUKE HEMMINGS
When was the last time I went on a date? I couldn’t tell you. Not a date that counts anyway. Not a cute date where things are planned, and I wear a cute outfit that I love and feel pretty in... I haven’t gotten to that part yet. The dress, and the feeling of being pretty part.
I’m sitting in my bedroom right now, butt-ass naked, contemplating if a dress is too much.
I’m not nervous.
I’m not scared.
I’ve been around Bellamy all semester, and nothing has changed between the two of us even now that dates are added.
I just don’t know what he’s wearing, and I hate it more than anything when I go somewhere and I feel out of place.
That’s the last thing I want. I pull up my phone, and text him, asking what he’s wearing, and right away, he responds.
Clothes.
Obviously, but what exactly are you wearing?
Are you hitting on me, or are you genuinely curious?
Bellamy, you’re already annoying me. I actually want to know.
Are you not ready yet? I’m almost at your place.
You are doing everything but answering the one question I asked you.
He’s useless. I get off the floor. Not without letting an animalistic groan out of my mouth. Then I walk through my living room, still naked. I go to the laundry room and flip through the clothes I have hanging up in there.
My mind is jumbled, and now I’m annoyed so all I do is stare, looking at my options.
I reach for the baby blue dress that I haven’t worn yet, and I take it off of the hanger, stepping into the dress.
I leave it unzipped toward the top which I can’t reach.
The dress has pretty dark blue flowers scattered all over it.
It reaches the middle of my calf and hugs me tight at the top, but underboob down it flows.
I walk back through my apartment and grab a pair of strappy heels, ones that tie up all around my ankles.
There’s a knock on my door, and I run to it, looking through the peephole first before opening it up.
Bellamy stands in front of me. He’s wearing a pair of light gray pants, and a black t-shirt, the t-shirt fitting him so well.
The soft black material hugs his arms like it’s his best friend in the world.
His hair is the same as it always is, messy, yet managed.
The ends effortlessly curled. He’s got a simple silver necklace on, and a few rings on his fingers, and now I’m staring at his hands, thinking about what Sienna said.
Quarterback hands. I snap my attention away, looking into his pretty light blue eyes instead of letting my eyes linger anywhere else. Anywhere they shouldn’t.
“Can you zip up my dress?” I turn before he answers.
I drop the shoes on the floor and move my long black hair from my back.
The second his fingers graze my skin I swear every hair on my body stands up.
Awareness spreads through every inch of me as I feel my body awaken just from the simplest touch.
I react to him far more than I would if it was anyone else.
What just happened is proof of that. Dear God, I need to behave myself.
“All done,” He tells me, reaching his hand around my body.
He gathers my hair, moving it to my back once again, and then he turns me by one shoulder. His touch lingers and his stare is prominent. I look up at him hesitantly, no expression present on my face as I wait for him to reveal what he’s thinking as we continue to stare at each other.
“Pretty.”
I press my lips together, but they inevitably turn up into a smile. Bellamy normally throws comments at me that are senseless, and seem as though they’re a joke. This, though it’s simple, feels real. Like he truly means it when he says it. One word, only one but it hits my chest hard.
“Thanks,” I turn around, not letting any of my thoughts be seen on my face.
I grab the shoes from where I dropped them on the floor. I walk into my living room and throw myself down on the couch.
I hike my leg up so I can put the heels on, the material of my dress beginning to slip up my leg as I rest it on the table. I feel the air brushing my exposed skin. I’m not showing too much, but just enough.
I catch Bellamy’s eyes, his hands in his pockets, his face, and gaze stuck in my direction. He looks like he was struck by lightning. It’s not a bad look but it’s one I don’t know so I speak my thoughts.
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I didn’t know what to wear because someone likes to keep things a secret,” I snatch some of the unwanted tension from the air.
He might enjoy it, but I know I don’t.
“I have to have some edge on you... I also had no idea what you were wearing. It’s only fair, right?”
I roll my eyes as I switch feet. I try to move quickly as I put on the other shoe.
“Well, I don’t care what’s fair. I need to know from now on what the dress code is for every single one of these stupid dates,” I lace the shoes with skill around my ankle and calf.
“As long as you don’t call them stupid again. Speaking of...” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the list.
The thought of him having it – keeping it, and looking at it – ties knots in my stomach and I hate the feeling. I watch as he holds it, ignoring his hands as I look, and see his eyes scanning the paper.
“We’ve got a lot to get done,” He shakes the list lightly, his eyes sliding back to me.
“Yeah, and I know some of those things aren’t possible right now, but it’s fine. I guess we can just do as much as we’re able,” I stand and make my way to him.
He watches every move I take like he’s never laid eyes on me in his life. I move close to him, practically chest to chest. He’s focused on me, more than he ever has been right now.
“Ready?” He asks and I nod softly.
He motions to the door, and then he opens it for me.
We walk out together, down the hall, and to the elevator.
As we move through my building, he’s sure to open every door for me, and the moment we walk out of the complex he walks around me, moving me so I’m on the inside, and he’s closest to the street.
All green flags from Bellamy Archer, that’s a fact. Not that I’m surprised.
“My car is right up here.”
I walk beside him, a small distance between us as we walk, his arm barely brushing mine as we move together.
I continue my pace down the street and feel his presence leave.
My head turns and I look at him as he opens the door of an old beat up Jeep.
I knew he drove a Jeep, but I didn’t think this is what it would look like.
One that looks like it’s lived a lot of life.
Been to a lot of places. The car is more loved than I am from the looks of it.
“This is your car?” I ask him.
“I’ve driven you before… And for someone without a car, I don’t think you have much room to judge mine.”
I walk back to him and shake my head.
“No, I’m not judging. I just expected something different,” I know he’s got money.
A lot of it too. His family is loaded. I guess it was shallow of me to expect anything at all from him. Especially that he’d have some fancy nice car. Oddly enough, this old beat up car fits Bellamy perfectly. I did think his reddish Jeep was newer than the one I’m now sitting in.
“What were you expecting then?” He closes the door behind me as I climb in.
He walks around the front of the car and gets in on his side. We both buckle, and he pulls away from the sidewalk, beginning our drive.
“Something newer… I don’t know, at first, when I had no idea what you drove, I expected you to drive a sports car. Or like a fast car. A Mustang or something. Tesla. I don’t know,” I shrug again, the words feeling stupid as I say them.
He fits the Jeep, but damn would he look good in a Tesla or a muscle car.
“Doesn’t your ex drive a Mustang?”
Did he just make me want to throw up already? Not even ten minutes into our first date ever?
“You know normally people you’re dating don’t mention your ex.”
“Well, good thing we’re fake dating, so I can.”
I can tell Bellamy finds himself incredibly amusing right now considering the smirk plastered on his face. Though it looks good on him, it annoys me to my core.
“Yes, he did drive a Mustang,” I don’t want to tell him, but considering Bellamy’s track record.
I don’t think he’ll let it go until I confirm.
“Yeah, I don’t need a car to compensate...”
My jaw drops. He laughs, and I watch him carefully, my eyes focused on his face.
He’s got pretty skin, smooth, and even. His lips are pink, and curve around his pearly white teeth perfectly when he smiles or laughs.
The second he reveals his smile, he reveals a mark carved deep into his cheek.
A deep dimple that softens every feature of his.
Bellamy doesn’t have hard stern features.
He’s got intimidating features. Because there’s not a single flaw in the way he looks.
There’s light stubble on his structured jaw, not patchy, or uneven.
He has light eyes that focus on the road, only looking elsewhere occasionally, just like he’s doing right now, looking at me.
Bellamy looks perfect, and the way he looks at me might be more perfect than that.
I look away, noticing the way he’s gripping the steering wheel with both hands.
“Why are you gripping the steering wheel for dear life? Should I be scared?” I ask him.
“No, sorry,” He apologizes for nothing, and moves one of his hands, resting it on the gear shift.
I look at his muscular hands, ring clad, wrapped around the wheel instead of around my throat, and I-
“I think I’m nervous,” He announces, and I’m glad he stopped my completely inappropriate thoughts.
They were out of hand... No pun intended.
“Why would you be nervous?” I ask him.
“I’m taking a pretty girl on a date,” He tells me, and I smile at the smooth compliment.
The word pretty is so superficial, but it sounds like butter when it comes from Bellamy Archer, and I don’t think there’s any way I could explain why.