ELORA'S POV
The car ride to the restaurant was quiet except for the soft sound of music playing through the speakers—something about the lyrics made my heart ache in a way I couldn't explain. Lucas's hand rested over mine on the seat, his thumb brushing lazy circles across my skin. Every few seconds, he'd lift my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently, like it was something fragile, something sacred.
He turned to me with that smile—the kind that could melt ice. “Elora,” he murmured. “You're so beautiful.”
I smiled shyly and said, “Lucas, you've said that countless times already.”
He chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“And that's because saying it once isn't enough to compliment your beauty.”
I rolled my eyes but felt the warmth creep up my cheeks. Lucas
