“It’ll get old quick, I promise. I can see it now.” He swipes a hand through the air in an arc. “‘Carter Beckett, seen for the tenth night in a row with hot-as-hell high school teacher.’” He squeezes my hands. “Trust me, princess, it’ll get boring fast.” My nose scrunches. “I’m not a princess.” He pulls into traffic, winking at me. “You’re my princess.”
