Brent eyes me up and down.
"You're wearing make-up."
"I am."
"You look different. Beautiful."
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.
"Thanks."
He steps aside to let me pass, and he closes the door behind us. We walk down the stairs together, not exchanging a word, and when we get to the car, I'm surprised when he holds the door open for me.
I get in without a fuss, noting that he waits patiently until I'm done wearing my seatbelt before he closes the door.
He's being such a gentleman.
"What music do you like?" He asks me once he pulls into the street.
I eye him from the corner of my eye. It hits me then, just how little Brent knows about me. I can't even remember the last time we rode in the same car, leave alone listening to music together.
I was such a clown when I though
