Chris practically bounced beside you as you wandered through Sephora, his excitement almost contagious. He wasn’t even into makeup, but the moment he saw you scanning the shelves, he was invested.

Every time your gaze lingered on something—lip gloss, a perfume bottle, an eyeshadow palette—he was on it; no hesitation, no questions asked, he just grabbed it and tossed it into the basket like it was his mission in life to make sure you left with everything you wanted.

“You’re staring at that way too hard not to want it,” he teased, adding yet another item before you could protest. His smile was bright, and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners, full of nothing but adoration.

The employees watched, amused, other women, though? They weren’t just watching; they were staring, whispering, trying to get his attention because, of course, Chris wasn’t just any guy, he was loud, affectionate, and effortlessly attractive, the type of boyfriend most girls could only dream of.

Little did they know, Chris wasn’t interested. Not even a little.

He only had eyes for you, and he made that crystal clear every time he pulled you closer, slung an arm around your waist, or pressed a kiss to your temple like it was second nature. If anyone dared to approach, he didn’t even need to shut them down—your glare alone was enough to send them running.

But this one? oh, she just chuckled, lifting her skirt a little and leaning closer to Chris. “Do you think that lip gloss will look good on me?” she asked, false innocence lacing her voice. “we can try it out later, if you're up for it, handsome.”