you're beautiful
757 Words
The inside of Damon King’s car smelled like cedarwood, leather, and money.
Iris hated that she noticed.
She sat stiffly in the passenger seat, trying not to look too impressed by the sleek dashboard glowing softly in the dark. Everything about the SUV screamed luxury — which made her feel painfully aware of the rip in her sleeve and the fact that her boots were probably dragging dirt onto his spotless floor mats.
The rain poured harder outside, beating against the windshield while Damon drove with one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel.
Calm. Controlled. Annoyingly attractive.
Iris looked out the window instead.
“You could at least pretend to be grateful,” Damon said suddenly.
She glanced at him. “I said thank you.”
“You sighed before saying it.”
“That was an emotional support sigh.”
A quiet huff of amusement escaped him.
Iris stared.
“You just laughed.”
“I didn’t.”
“You literally did.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“You’re scary when you joke. Don’t do it again.”
This time his mouth twitched visibly.
God. That should’ve been illegal.
She quickly looked away before he caught her staring again.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward exactly.
It was familiar.
Strange, considering she and Damon had never really been close despite knowing each other for years. Clara used to drag Iris into the King mansion almost every weekend growing up, and Damon had always been there somewhere in the background.
Too mature. Too serious. Too untouchable.
While Clara snuck snacks upstairs and Iris talked too loudly during movies, Damon had spent most nights locked inside his father’s office learning how to save a collapsing company after his parents died.
At fourteen.
Iris remembered the funeral clearly.
The black umbrellas. The cameras outside the church. The way Damon stood beside his little sister with a straight spine and emotionless face while the entire world whispered about the tragedy.
He’d looked like a child pretending to be a man.
And somehow over the years, the pretending became real.
“You’re doing it again,” Damon said.
She blinked. “Doing what?”
“Staring.”
“I was thinking.”
“Still dangerous.”
“Oh my God.”
A small chuckle left him this time — quieter than before but real enough to make her stomach do something embarrassing.
Iris frowned at the window immediately.
This was bad.
Very bad.
Because Damon King had always been attractive in an intimidating, stay-away-from-him kind of way.
But this version of him?
The one teasing her while rain poured outside and soft music played in the background?
That one felt dangerous.
Her phone suddenly buzzed in her lap.
CLARA: ARE YOU STILL COMING TONIGHT???
Iris groaned softly.
Damon glanced at her. “Clara?”
“How did you know?”
“You make that face whenever my sister is involved.”
“What face?”
“The exhausted one.”
“She invited me to dinner three days ago and has threatened my life every six hours since then.”
“She does that.”
Another message popped up immediately.
CLARA: IF YOU CANCEL I’M TELLING EVERYONE ABOUT YOUR MIDDLE SCHOOL CRUSH
Iris gasped. “She wouldn’t dare.”
Damon’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “Middle school crush?”
“No.”
“Interesting reaction.”
“There is no reaction.”
“You look nervous.”
“I look beautiful actually.”
His eyes flicked toward her briefly.
For one dangerously quiet second, his gaze lingered.
Then—
“Yes,” he said calmly. “You do.”
Iris forgot how breathing worked.
The rain. The road. The entire planet.
Gone.
Because Damon had just called her beautiful like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And judging by the faint smirk pulling at his mouth—
He knew exactly what he’d done.
“Oh,” she said intelligently.
His smirk deepened.
“I like this version of you.”
“What version?”
“The speechless one.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m getting out of this car.”
“We’re on the highway.”
“Details.”
For the first time that night, Damon laughed properly.
Low. Warm. Unexpected.
And Iris suddenly understood something terrifying.
She had spent years thinking Damon was cold.
But maybe he wasn’t cold at all.
Maybe he was simply the kind of man who only showed warmth to people he cared about.
And that realization felt far more dangerous.
- Writer
