“Does me thinking you’re beautiful make you nervous?” “Not nervous exactly, but…” She adjusted in her seat and took a sip of wine. “But what?” “The last man I dated—he said some mean things about my appearance.” She shrugged. “And I guess I believed him.” I straightened, my spine as stiff as a rod, and took a deep breath. “He was a fool,” I spat. “You’re sweet.” She met my gaze and smiled.
