Gaia
Dawson took me to a romantic restaurant on the edge of a cliff for dinner. It overlooked the entire valley, and we watched the sun slip behind the mountains from our candle lit table on the patio.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, sipping my wine. He considered this as he chewed his steak.
“If you had asked me a week ago, I probably would have said something unimaginative like black. But now? Emerald green.” Like my eyes? That was so sweet I blushed. “You?”
“Oh, um, purple.” My face flamed as he let out one of his booming laughs. It echoed off down the valley.
“Well, we can’t all base our choices off of wooing stunning women, can we?”
I frowned and threw a fry at him. “That’s mean! You didn’
