"Remind me why I'm being your girlfriend again?" You ask, kicking the passenger compartment in front of you nervously as Cole drives next to you.
He takes the next right, glancing at you, and as you do. Shit. Almost there.
"I told you, remember? My mom thinks I'm lonely and depressed and she keeps trying to set me up with her friends' daughters."
Nibbling your lip, you frown. "And you thought I was the best person to do this because-?"
"It's believable," he reassures, fingers drumming against the steering wheel in repetition. Your eyes scan him up and down. Not checking him out, of course, but because you want to see if the two of you look good enough together for the story to be plausible. You can't picture it.
"I mean, look at you," he speaks, slightly distracted with trying to keep below the speed limit, yet still managing to effortlessly read your racing mind. "You look like the definition of someone I would date."
You try not to smile at that, smoothing your pleated black skirt down over your thighs. You had asked if it was too formal earlier, paired with your maroon sweater and black tights, but Cole had assured you it was fine and that 'you look... great', and maybe you were reading too much into it but you could have sworn you noticed his blue-green eyes (you could never really tell which) linger on your elegant neck and down at your calves through the sheerness of the fabric poorly concealing them.
You put it down to your wishful thinking, seeing things that weren't actually happening. The car comes to a stop, causing you to immediately snap out of your spiraling thoughts.
"We're here."
You instantly rummage through your handbag for a mirror and check your reflection. Cole turns to you, noticing your jittery movements.
"Hey."
"Yeah?" You cringe internally at the way you respond too quickly, and you find yourself wishing you had just stayed in your room all day, lounging around and eating ice cream and watching cheesy rom-coms.
"You really don't have to do this, if you don't want to. I can just tell my mom that you feel ill-"
"No, honestly, I'm..I'm- fine?" The fact that it comes out like a question causes your eye to twitch.
He steps out of the car, shuts his door, and comes around to open yours. You almost scoff. Why does he have to be so gentlemanly?
Cole's hand tentatively reaches up to your face, "Are you sure?" He persists.
Your words fail you as your breath hitches in your throat, and you can do little more than nod. "What if I mess it up, and she realizes that we're not really... dating?"
Cole tucks a tuft of hair away behind his ear, something you'd been aching to do for most of the drive. "She won't," he says firmly. "I trust you." A laugh almost escapes your throat as you realize he has more trust in you than you possess in yourself, but you push the thought aside as you realize he's staring at you intently, awaiting an answer. You nod, and his face pulls up into that gorgeous grin. He offers his hand to you, helping you out of the car. It's impossible to find his courteousness overbearing, not when he squeezes your hand as if telling you it's okay or his eyes flicker to you for a moment, but the look in them feels like he's looking at you like you're his everything, and you're not sure if that makes you adore or be wary of him.
You're still pondering this up until Cole and you walk up the front porch, the door swings open. An orange-haired woman stands at the doorway, "You're here!" She hugs her son first, and you stand somewhat awkwardly beside them when she releases your 'boyfriend' and observes you, but you can tell from the sparkling glint in her eyes that it's not for the sake of criticizing but out of genuine inquisitiveness.
