My chest heaves. “I was going for intimidating, regal, and suave.”
She takes a step towards me, and between her natural height and the added inches from her heels she almost meets me eye to eye. “We’ll work on that for next time.”
It takes all my willpower to keep my hands at my side when all they want to do is rest on those hips. I can only imagine how cool the satin would feel against my palms, how small she would feel under my touch. She’s utter perfection, feminine and beautiful, but we’re roommates and she’s my sister’s best friend, and the only touching that should be done is while prying eyes are watching us. Only while prying eyes are watching us.
Her matching lilac fingernails find my tie as she straightens me out and I can’t help but watch her work. Her eyelids are shimmering, her cheeks are painted rose, and her lashes are darker than usual. Maybe it’s my angle, but they’re the perfect frame for her whiskey brown eyes as she fixates on my tie.
“You did a good job on your makeup.”
Her head snaps up, brows creased in confusion.
I motion towards my own face. “Your makeup. It looks pretty on you.”
“That’s a weird thing to say.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re supposed to say you like me natural or something to that extent. That’s the typical opinion of the male species.”
“Well, what can I say? I’m not like other guys.”
She catches onto the mocking tone of the cliché phrase as she rolls her eyes and releases a subtle laugh. “You’re funny sometimes, Shay.”
“Do you like your makeup? Did you spend time on it?”
She keeps her stare on my tie and not on me. “Yes.”
“Exactly. So, I think you should know you did a good job on it.”
Those rose-painted cheeks flame. “Thank you.”
“How tall are you?” I keep my words low because she’s only inches from my lips.
“Five-nine, and no, I’m not going to change into shorter heels.”
“Why would I ask you to do that?”
She’s done straightening my tie, but her hands are lingering, fingers pretending to work. “Because I’m only a couple inches shorter than you right now.”
“I don’t mind.”
Looking down, I watch those flaming cheeks ignite once again. At this rate, I should’ve warned her not to wear blush at all tonight.
“We should go.” She takes off to the door, grabbing her tiny purse on the way.
“Your jacket,” I remind her.
She turns with attitude, showing off that shiny pink dress. “I’m not taking one. Beauty is pain, and this outfit needs its moment.”
It took the entire drive for Indy to stop shivering thanks to the short walk from my apartment to the town car. I offered her my jacket, but she refused, claiming if she’s going to be photographed on my arm then it’s going to be in this dress. I don’t blame her because goddamn, this dress, but I’m going to come off like an asshole allowing my date to freeze in the Chicago evening temperatures.
“You ready?” I ask her as we pull up to the swanky hotel hosting the fall banquet. And though the question is directed at Indy, I’m internally asking myself the same thing.
Besides the favor-date last year, I haven’t been photographed with a woman since I moved to Chicago, and now I’m regretting pulling Indy into this madness. My life is forever on display, and I hate it. Anonymity is rare and I’m about to take hers away.
“Yeah, I think so.” Her words are breathy, fogging the back window as her eyes stay glued to the hoard of photographers right outside.
An image of Stevie flashes through my mind. I couldn’t protect her from the scrutiny of the press last spring, and I vividly remember the mental toll it took on her. She was a normal girl and I kept her out of the limelight the best I could, but once word got out that Evan Zanders had a girlfriend, her life was upended for weeks.
And I’m intentionally about to do that to her closest friend.
Although, I doubt speculation over my dating life would be as big of a deal as it was for Zanders. I’m not a playboy. I’m not flashy. I’ve never flaunted my single life the way he used to, but it’s still too risky.
“Harold, turn around,” I project to my driver. “Back home, please.”
Indy’s head snaps to me. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t let you go out there with me.” Fidgeting, I run my palms down my thighs as I wait for Harold to pull out of the lineup and get us back home.
Indy’s hand settles on mine in an easy move, unthinking. As if we’ve touched and comforted one another hundreds of times in the past. “What’s wrong?”
I stare at where we’re connected, her hand small in comparison to mine. And even though she’s big and bold in spirit, she’s soft. She has feelings. A lot of them.
“You’re a normal person, Blue.”
Her lip quirks. “Very observant tonight, Shay.”
“Being normal is special. I won’t be the reason you lose your privacy. Especially over something as trivial as a fake date.”
My driver turns the wheel to get back on the main road.
“Don’t you dare drive.” Indy’s words are harsh and commanding, causing Harold’s nervous stare to meet mine in the rearview mirror.
He’s been my driver for four years and I’ve never seen him so quickly shift loyalties than in this moment as the blonde at my side shoots him commands.
She turns to me, that sinful slit inching its way over and taunting those golden legs. “I get that you want to be left alone, and you’re worried about me.” She pats my chest. “Cute, by the way, but I like people. I’m excited about this. You’re not forcing me. I want to go.”
“Indy—”
“What are you worried about? Sure, there might be a few headlines and my name might get released, but who cares? It’ll last a day, maybe two. When they deep dive into my life they’ll find out I go to trivia, I cross-stitch in my free time, and I read dirty books. No one cares about me. I’m not you, Ryan. It’s you they worship. So, please, let me go be a social butterfly because I’m starved for attention.”
Her eager brown eyes lighten with humor.
“You cross-stitch?”
“Proudly.”
“You grandma.” She smiles at that, matching the now relaxed grin on my lips. “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t shave and moisturize every inch of my body to go back home. Yes, I’m sure.”
Making eye contact once again, I offer a small nod of approval to Harold.
Once we pull up, my door on the street side is opened. I step out, rebuttoning my suit as flashes illuminate the dark sky. My name is yelled, cameras are blinding, but I stay on task. Rounding the car to Indy’s side, I stop the doorman when his hand finds the handle. “I’ve got it.”
He gives a polite nod and steps back with his hands folded behind him.
I open Indy’s door by only a fraction, giving myself a moment to check on her and make sure she’s truly okay with this before subjecting her to the entire world. She’s wearing an eager smile on those heart-shaped lips and her brown eyes are shining with excitement.