Page 78 of Deep In Love
He refused to tell me what he had planned this morning, only told me to meet him at seven on the top deck. Needless to say, I’m freaking the fuck out. I can’t recall the last time I’ve had the anticipatory fluttering in my chest before a date.
“About half an hour ago, Mateo showed up with some requests,” Vivian says, her eyebrows rising and falling suggestively.
“More like demands,” Sofía mumbles. “Are you here about the same thing?”
“Uh…maybe?”
Sofía squeals, clapping her hands together, and Vivian cheers. My jaw falls as they celebrate before giving me their attention.
“I was telling Amber about the odd sexual tension between you two,” Vivian admits. “We’ve been rooting for this. Sofía cavedimmediately and gave Mateo everything he wanted when he said he was trying to impress you.”
I can’t stop the heat creeping up my neck or the girlish smile tugging at my lips.
Another round of squeals echoes around the table, and they both discard the paperwork to lean in close.
“So what do you need?” Vivian asks.
“You want it, you got it,” Sofía adds.
“Well, I was hoping maybe you guys could help with my hair…and maybe a little makeup?” I look at Vivian, whose eyelids are a bright pink, covered in iridescent sparkles.
The two exchange a look.
“My cabin. Five p.m.,” Vivian says with a manic expression that sends a wave of apprehension through my body.
Tonight, I’m going on a date, and I’m really, really excited.
The cool sea breeze whips through the loose curls Sofía spent the last hour perfecting, then dousing in hair spray. Nerves eat at my stomach, but I refrain from touching my face in fear I’ll mess up Vivian’s makeup. I’ve never worn this much before, and when I looked in the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself.
I smooth out the sundress Sofía let me borrow, cream with small pink flowers and a milkmaid cut. My chest and arms are bare, but with the pink shawl Vivian lent me, I’m able to ward off any chill.
Music filters from the top deck, and as I take the last stair, I stop in my tracks. A large blanket is laid out on the ground, covered with pillows. White wine and the bag of chocolate sits in the corner beside two covered plates.
Mateo stands in the center of it all; his linen button-down flows with the wind, and the khakis fit snugly against his thighs. The coffee-hued waves of his hair are in pristine condition, as usual, and his hand flexes at his side.
“Hi, bruja,” he purrs, reaching out a hand. I place mine in his, and he pulls me against his chest. “You look beautiful.”
I’m mute as he guides me to a spot, helps me sit with my dress, and drapes a blanket over my lap.
I’ve officially lost function of my tongue, and I fiddle with the fire opal dangling around my neck to dissipate a sliver of the nerves.
We’re here, which means we’re moving in a new direction, and I want that—I told him as much. But it still frightens me because there’s an energy hanging in the air, one that suggests who I am tomorrow won’t be the same person I am today.
He’s smiling at me, and it’s the goofy, lopsided grin that settles a bit of the riot in my chest.
“Hi.”
Ah, good. I can still form words. Full sentences? Not quite, but I’ve got a greeting down.
He’s still staring at me, radiating happiness, and warmth blooms in my chest right beneath my diaphragm.
“Your hair is perfect,” I blurt out, overwhelmed by the depth of my affection for him, how wonderfully his shirt pulls against his broad shoulders, and the romantic energy buzzing in the air.
I slap my palm against my forehead. Neptune, I sound like a doofus.
Mateo laughs deeply. “Thank you.”
“Don’t let the compliment go to your head,” I grumble, embarrassed by my awkwardness, but also blown away byhim.
