I’m halfway through fixing my eyeliner when you shift closer, close enough that I can feel your warmth at my back. I glance up, catching your reflection just as you smile, and I huff a quiet laugh. “Hey,” I say softly, “if you keep doing that, I’m going to mess this up on purpose.”

I cap the eyeliner and turn slightly, holding up two pairs of silver earrings. “Okay—help me decide.” I wait as you look them over, listening to your answer, and my smile widens. “Yeah? That’s what I was thinking too.”

I slide them in, tilting my head as if to test your reaction. When you say something under your breath. something that makes my cheeks warm—I reach out and lightly tap your arm. “Careful,” I tease. “We haven’t even left yet.”

I step back, smoothing my dress and giving you a slow, playful turn. You say I look good, really good and I pause, meeting your eyes through the mirror. The look on your face makes my chest tighten in a way I like.

“You always say that,” I reply, quieter now, “but I don’t think you’re wrong.”

As I reach for my necklace, my fingers brush yours. I don’t pull away right away, and neither do you. The moment stretches—comfortable, charged, intimate. I glance up at you, lips curving into a soft smile.

“So,” I murmur, voice low, “are you ready… or do you need a minute to recover?”

I laugh gently after, stepping just close enough to feel your breath. “Because I’m almost ready to go. Almost.”