The Start of Time

Chapter 5

An ear-shattering screech echoes across my tiny apartment.

As it turns out, Declan Wilder was more than willing to help me out with my little predicament. Then again, I did tell him if he helped me find the perfect date for this wedding, then he could win his $200 back. Making him my new wingman felt like a good idea until it involved going through my entire closet on a random Friday night.

I didn't expect to have him infiltrating my safe space. He looks so out of place here in my minimalist apartment. His expensive shoes clashing against my floors, and his smirk peeking out from my closet door while I sit like a child, cross-legged on my bed, patiently waiting as colors flash by everytime he chunks a few items beside me.

"Do you ever go out? My mom dresses better than you, and she still drives a minivan."

Two large strides leave him hovering over me while he examines his findings. He picks up a black, one shoulder top and the shortest skirt he can find, dropping them into my lap.

"Try these."

"Absolutely not. I'm not even sure why I still have this." I pick up a pair of light wash, distressed jeans, giving Wilder my cutest pout. "Please?"

He smiles, cupping my chin and squeezing my cheeks until my lips pucker like a fish, shaking my head back and forth slowly. "Only because you asked so nicely."

Okay, I get it. Act like a child. Get treated like a child.

But at least I got what I wanted.

"Am I really going to have to wear a strapless bra?" I mumble under my breath.

Declan extends his hand towards me, replying once I take it. "Yes, you're going to have to wear a strapless bra."

Then, he's jerking me up off the bed. That smirk that was starting to grow on me the night we met is now my new symbol for torture.

I begrudgingly trudge to the bathroom to change, silently praying these jeans still fit as I shimmy into them. Throw on a little makeup, tuck my hair behind my ears, and I'm ready to go.

Wilder gives me a curt nod of approval. "Not bad, let's just do one thing."

His hand brushes across my cheek softly before pulling my hair behind my ears. It's just a fluttering touch, a mere graze, but it leaves my breath caught in my throat.

Was that really necessary, and why did it affect me so much? I know I'm blushing. It's just that people don't usually touch my face like that. Actually, I don't know if anyone's ever done that.

"Are you sure this is okay? I feel like—"

"What do you mean? You're gorgeous."

He says it so casually, but I can't stop the small smile overtaking my face, stifling it by rolling my eyes and tilting my head. His hand is still lingering near my cheekbone. His eyes never leave mine as his face inches closer and closer with every shallow breath.

I step back gently, praising and cursing myself for purposely ruining the almost moment. I bump my shoulder against his as I make my way towards the closet.

"So, I don't still look like a mom who drives a minivan?"

"If you were, you'd be one hell of a cougar."

"Only you can make a compliment sound so demeaning."

"What can I say? It's a gift. Pick some shoes, so we can go." He peeks around the corner, shooting me a stern glance. "And they better be decent."

He hasn't exactly known me long enough to know that despite my lack of unique style, shoes are my specialty. While my white sneakers are totally a vibe, I decide on platform sandals with detailing.