“I really mean it…” he said as he came to sit by your side, a gentle and fond smile lifting at his lips. Hesitantly, Freddie took your hand in his own. His touch was soft, grip almost nonexistent, as if you were the most fragile flower he’d ever had the pleasure of holding.

He looked down at your hand against his own and his smile warmed even further. His gaze then wandered up your body: to your arm; to your torso; to your neck; your jawline; your lips; your nose; your cheekbones; until he met your eyes with his own.

He leaned towards you slightly. “It’s not just a line…” he said, his British accent quiet and calming but not quite a whisper. “I really think-“ he began. A short pause. Then, his smile widened and he complimented you again, “You are the most attractive person I’ve met.”

His other hand then rested above the one that held yours so gently. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the budding love behind his blue irises and the fond affection that lifted his lips. He truly meant every word.