SAM POV
I sat quietly as Tristan drove, the steady engine noise surrounding us. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, getting more frantic by the second. I couldn't shake the nervous feeling, remembering his hug and his serious words.
Oh no, I'm incredibly nervous, especially recalling his hug and his words. The way he held me, his warm touch, it was all so intense, making me feel dizzy and confused.
I stole a quick look at Tristan from the corner of my eye, admiring his strong profile lit softly by the dashboard lights. Despite trying to stay calm, my hands were sweaty, and my stomach churned with nerves and excitement.
He didn't even take me to the office because I was already late from the long hug, though I couldn't tell how many minutes it lasted. Then there were his words, assuring he'd explain to Mr. Gomez why I was late. It was a kind gesture that surprised me, revealing the compassionate person behind his calm exterior.
"We've arrived," Tristan announced, and I looked outside, seeing a fancy restaurant.
I straightened up in surprise when the door opened next to me, and there he was, waiting for me to get out. Wow, he's quite polite after all. I thought he was just being conceited.
I hesitated for a moment, not sure what to anticipate, but then I told myself to stay open-minded. This spontaneous outing with Hercules had been full of surprises already.
Summoning my bravery, I got out of the car, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach as I felt his eyes on me. I didn't dare to look at him directly, my nerves taking over as I focused on the ground below me.
But then, as I was about to move, I felt his hand on my waist, pulling me closer to him with a firm grip that made me shiver.
I almost lost my balance, surprised by his sudden touch and the intensity of his stare as he glanced at me. There was something instinctual and intense in his eyes, something that made my heart race and my breath catch in my throat.
For a moment, we stood there, locked up in a silent standoff, neither of us willing to break eye contact first. Then, he gradually let go of me, his touch fading like a faint memory.
"Shall we?" he said, his voice gentle yet authoritative, pointing towards the restaurant entrance.
I nodded, speechless as I trailed behind him into the restaurant, my mind filled with countless questions and doubts.
A woman and a man welcomed us warmly as we stepped into the restaurant, their smiles sincere and welcoming as they led us to a table for two.
As we got comfortable in our seats, the woman gave us the menus with a polite nod before vanishing into the restaurant. I looked around, admiring the restaurant's understated yet classy atmosphere. The muted colors and gentle lighting created a cozy vibe, ideal for a romantic night out.
"Hey babe, what are you having?" Tristan asked, breaking the silence as he looked at the menu in front of him.
I blinked, briefly surprised by his casual use of the term "babe." It was an affectionate term I wasn't used to hearing from him, and it surprised me, making my cheeks flush with warmth.
"What?" I stuttered, still trying to process the unexpected nickname.
Tristan chuckled, his eyes narrowing with amusement as he leaned in closer. "I mean, what are you planning to eat?" he clarified, his tone playful and gentle as he saw my confusion.
I gulped, feeling my embarrassment grow as I realized my error. "Uh..." I paused, feeling flustered as I looked at the menu. The words seemed to swim together, my mind unable to concentrate with Tristan's gaze on me.
I cleared my throat, trying to compose myself as I squirmed in my seat. "I'm still deciding," I confessed, and sheepishly looked at Tristan, who was raising an eyebrow at me.
Tristan arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he leaned back. "No worries, darling. Take your time," he said, his voice gentle and comforting.
I couldn't help but wonder why Tristan consistently raised his eyebrow at me. Was it a habit, part of his personality, or did he do it to tease me? Whatever the reason, it always surprised me, making me feel flustered and self-conscious.
Is he proud of his bushy eyebrows? I couldn't help but wonder silently. Maybe he believes they enhance his charm, or perhaps it's just an unconscious habit.
But no matter the cause, I felt increasingly irritated by his repetitive eyebrow-raising. It felt as if he was always scrutinizing me, silently evaluating my every action with that curious expression.
"I'll shave them off," I mumbled quietly, half in jest, though I was tempted to do it just to see his reaction.
"Uh, can we just go with your order?" I managed to say, my embarrassment clear in the slight shake of my voice.
To my relief, Tristan just nodded, his face neutral as he leaned back in his chair. "Sure. Two of those and juice for her," he told the waiter, his tone decisive but polite.
"Of course, sir. Would you like to try our new wine selection, sir?" the waiter inquired, maintaining his professional demeanor.
"Yes, please," Tristan answered, his focus returning to me.
As the waiter went to convey our order, Tristan looked back at me, his gaze intense and piercing, sending a shiver down my spine. I lost count of how many times he caught me off guard by holding my hand on the table.
I wanted to pull my hand away from his grip, to create some space between us. But he didn't allow it. Instead, he squeezed even tighter, his fingers entwining with mine possessively, stirring up a blend of fear and thrill in my heart.
"Tristan, what are you doing?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as I looked into his eyes.
He grinned, a slow, enticing smile that made my heart race. "Just enjoying the moment, sweetheart," he answered, his voice deep and sultry as he leaned in closer.
I gulped, feeling my cheeks flush as his breath grazed my ear. "But... what if someone sees us?" I protested softly.
Tristan laughed, sending tingles down my spine. "Let them watch," he whispered, his lips brushing against my neck. "I don't mind who sees us, as long as I have you with me. And Sam, please promise me you won't go out with that guy anymore. Just stay away from Kent," Tristan begged, his eyes full of intensity as he looked at me."
I felt a surge of defiance at his words, my anger rising at his attempt to control my choices. "Why should I listen you?" I questioned, my voice tinged with frustration and irritation.
Tristan sighed, his posture slumping as he searched for the right words. "Because I'm envious," he confessed, his voice barely audible. "I don't want him touching you because..."
"Because What?" I interrupted, needing to hear him say it clearly to understand where I stood with him.
"Because it should only be me–" Tristan began, his voice faltering.
"Who are you? What do you mean to me?" I cut in, my voice shaking with emotion as I looked at him intensely.
Tristan fell silent, his gaze dropping to the table as he struggled to find the right words. Slowly, I felt his grip on my hand weaken, his touch fading away like a distant memory.
A pang in my heart matched the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was just my imagination. Could it be that Tristan truly cared for me, that his feelings were deeper than I had realized?
"Yeah, sure, we're not together, but I'll do whatever it takes to make it happen," Tristan said at last, bitterness evident in his tone. "And I won't allow anyone to stop me."
His words made my heart race, a blend of apprehension and anticipation surging within me at the idea of what he was proposing. Was he truly ready to battle for me, to gamble everything for the chance of love?
"What will you do?" I anxiously inquired, barely audible as I prepared for his answer.
Tristan's face turned resolute, determination clear in his eyes as he locked onto mine. "Simple. I'll fight for you," he affirmed, his voice firm.
Upon hearing his final words, a strange satisfaction filled me, a sense of validation that swept over me like a wave. Despite the uncertainty and doubt between us, I couldn't ignore the excitement at the idea of Tristan fighting for my love.
Yet, despite feeling a glimmer of hope, doubt nagged at my mind. What's going on with me? I questioned, the conflicting emotions swirling inside me.
What the hell is happening to me?