Her fingers slip into mine as I help her out of the truck. Jesus, I can smell that soft vanilla scent of hers, and the freckles dusting across her nose catch the light just right.
She looks like summer. Like soft blue skies, and warm cheeks and something I probably don’t deserve.
“Maisie,” I say, quiet, trying not to fuck this up.
She meets my eyes.
“You’re—” I pause, blowing out a breath. Screw it. “You look so fucking beautiful.”
Her mouth parts, and she goes pink, like she didn’t expect that. She smiles softly, drifting her eyes over my body. “You look pretty good, too.”
“I know,” I tease with a grin. “I always do.”
She scoffs, shaking her head, then walks over to the back of the truck and drops the tailgate. Her eyes widen when she sees what I set up.
I laid out every blanket I could steal from the house. Thick ones, soft ones, even stole Nathan’s freaking weighted one because I heard it’s calming or something—heavy as fuck by the way. I shoved a cooler in the corner with a couple of sodas, a bag of popcorn, and basically every kind of candy I could find at the gas station.
She lets out this breath, like maybe she’s impressed or just trying not to laugh. “You went all out.”
I shrug, rubbing my neck again. “I wanted to make it special for you.”
When she glances at me, that weird ache hits my chest again. The one that only happens whenever she looks at me.
I help her up into the bed of the truck. She settles in against the pillows, and I tuck the blankets around her, checking twice that she’s comfortable.
The screen lights up as the projector kicks in.
She blinks, her eyebrows shooting up. “Wait. Is that?—”
I nod. “You’ve Got Mail.”
She turns to look at me, those soft eyes that somehow kill me every damn time. “That’s my favorite movie.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle, feeling the stupid grin creep onto my face. “I know.”
“You remembered that?”
I shrug, suddenly way too aware of how fast my heart’s pounding. I scratch the back of my neck. “I listen when you talk, Maisie.”
She looks at me for a second, this soft, quiet look that makes my chest tighten. Like she’s actuallyseeingme. And fuck, I’m sitting here on a first date with a girl, and suddenly I’m nervous as hell. I don’t get nervous. I always know what to say, what to do, how to flirt.
But I’m at a complete loss when it comes to this girl.
“I’ve never watched this one,” I admit, grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing it into my mouth.
She snaps her head toward me, shocked. “What? How?”
I shrug again. “I dunno. I think I tend to go for the more recent stuff.”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” she says with a smile. “The old ones are always the best.”
“High praise,” I say with a teasing smirk.
She nods. “You better pay attention.”
“I’ll try,” I say, but honestly, I’m barely watching the screen. I’m watching her.
The way her hair catches the light of the glowing screen. The curve of her cheek when she smiles. The soft sounds she makes when she laughs at a line.
