Aaron
I open the car door for Chloe, stepping aside to let her out, and the first thing I notice is her dress. It’s a deep emerald green, floor-length but with a high slit on one side that reveals just enough of her leg to make my throat dry. The silk fabric clings to her curves, shimmering faintly in the soft glow of the streetlights. Her hair is swept to one side, cascading over her shoulder in loose waves, and her earrings—delicate gold chandeliers—catch the light every time she moves. She smells like jasmine and something warmer, muskier, and it wraps around me, subtle but intoxicating.
I tug at my collar, suddenly too aware of how formal I feel in my black suit. The tie I picked earlier feels like it’s strangling me, but I keep it on—it matches my pocket square, and my father always
