Breathe You - C.R. Jane Page 0,56

I had in mind. I pull it over my body, the fabric cool on my skin, hugging all my curves to perfection. I walk over to my vanity and put a light amount of makeup on, focusing mostly on my eyes. It took me years to not see my mother’s reflection every time I looked in the mirror. The trick that got me through it was focusing on the one feature I inherited from my father—his eyes. Now I don’t even see the semblances I have with the woman who gave me life. I only see me.

I jump when I hear the doorbell ring from downstairs. Just like Dad said, the boys are an hour early.

Oh my god! This is it!

I sit down on the edge of my bed just to take a few seconds to control my nerves. I count to one hundred, breathing in and out, scared out of my wits at what I’m about to do. But it’s a good kind of fear, in a way that makes me feel alive.

After I make sure I’ve gathered all of my composure, enough of it that my father won’t grow suspicious of my behavior at least, I take in one more deep breath, realizing that the next time I enter my room, I won’t be the same girl anymore.

I can’t help the wide smile that thought brings to my face as I walk down my stairs, three pairs of eyes longingly watching me with every step I take.

“Wow,” Quaid utters, his eyes lingering on every exposed inch of skin my dress allows.

“You look beautiful, Valentina,” Logan adds, the sparkle in his blue eyes just as intense.

Carter doesn’t say a word, but I see him fist his hands to his side, and I know it’s because he’s trying not to touch me with my dad in the other room.

“You guys look pretty good, too,” I reply hoarsely, taking in each of my love’s attire.

They do look good.

Real good.

Mouth-wateringly good, and my excitement spikes up another notch just looking at them.

Someone clears their throat, interrupting our locked stares and held breaths. My dad is leaning against the living room doorway with a mocking smile stitched to his face.

“Now that we have covered that everyone looks good, how about you boys take my daughter celebrating? She deserves a night on the town.”

I skip over to my father and hug his midriff, his arms instantly cradling me to him.

“I’ll be home by two.”

“No way I can talk you into coming home earlier, huh?”

I shake my head with a beaming smile.

“Okay, I tried.” He shrugs. “Guess you’re an adult now. Just be sure to make good decisions, okay, kiddo?”

“Okay, Dad. Love you,” I say before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I love you too. Always and forever.”

I pull away and smile brightly at him before Quaid tugs at my hand, ushering me out the door as I wave to my chuckling father.

“We’re taking my car,” Quaid announces.

“Of course we are,” Logan smirks beside me.

“Hey, don’t be all pissy because you don’t have wheels.”

“I have wheels,” Carter counters tauntingly.

“No, you have a motorcycle like some bad boy cliché. It doesn’t count,” Quaid jokes.

“He’s not wrong,” Carter replies with a wink directed at me as we all walk towards Quaid’s car. Logan opens the front door for me, like the gentleman he is, and I slide into the front seat.

“Buckle up, princess. We are going to give you the best eighteenth birthday in history,” Quaid belts with a chuckle.

“I expect nothing less out of you three.”

Lorenzo’s is everything I expected it to be.

The restaurant oozes romance. With its low candlelight ambiance, soulful music playing in the background increasing the intimate setting, and where each table showcases freshly cut red roses, adding to the lovers’ feel to the place.

I did, however, have to stifle an unladylike snorted laugh when the maître d’ paled when all four of us showed up to the place. It was obvious by his fidgeting state that he was only accustomed to two party dinner parties and not the group one that just passed his restaurant’s doors. He eased up somewhat when he checked that our reservations were made ahead of time with four people in mind. Quaid had given instructions for us to have a quiet corner table so we could take in the gorgeous scenery and still feel comfortable to act like ourselves. You’d be surprised how many people change their personality just to fit into a fancy place like this.

Dinner