He could tell you weren’t aware—too caught up in sorting everything out before the surprise party kicked off. He didn’t know how to tell you, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. The first two buttons of your dress shirt had come undone, giving him—and probably anyone else around—a glimpse of your cleavage.

Most people likely assumed that was just how you’d chosen to wear it today, but he knew better. He’d seen the buttons slip loose the moment you bent to pick up a box of balloons. Since then, he’d been hovering nearby under the pretense of helping.

Now, the lights were dimmed and everyone was waiting for the guest of honor to arrive. He leaned in to whisper about your shirt but froze the second the door opened. The lights snapped on, and a chorus of cheers filled the room. You jumped slightly, joining in the applause—just as he instinctively stepped in front of you, blocking the view from everyone else. You blinked, confused, looking up at him as he tried to play it off.