Chapter Eleven
A knock lands on my door at six o’clock on Saturday.
I twist the cap back on the mascara, examine myself in the mirror, and take a deep breath, silently telling myself that I’ve got this. I only have to be alone with him on the way there and back. A nice goodbye at the end of the evening and I’m done.
A knock hits my door again.
“Always impatient,” I murmur, leaving the bathroom and heading to the door. “You got this,” I remind myself.
I open the door and my pep talks from the past hour were all for naught. Dean stands there in a pair of black jeans, a black V-neck shirt with a black leather jacket over the top. His hair is styled messier than during his work day. He really is trying to torture me. Did he put on Chapstick? His lips are a light pink, his dark eyes even m
