"CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND?"
I read it again, my mind trying to catch up. 'CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND?' It wasn't a puppy's name. It was... a query. A question. Scrolled in neat, tiny letters on a miniature silver dog tag.
My eyes snapped up, past the puppy's fluffy head nestled against my chest, to meet Adrien's eyes.
He was no longer just standing; he was walking towards me, slowly, a tenderness I rarely saw flickering in his expression. His usual carefully constructed composure was fractured, revealing a vulnerability there, a raw hopefulness that stole my breath more effectively than any grand gesture.
He stopped in front of me, reaching out a hand, not to me, but gently stroking the puppy's head. "She," he said, his voice lower than usual, quiet amidst the gentle rocking of the boat, "is asking for me. Or rather... she's delivering the question for me."
My eyes welled up, hot and immediate. This wasn't just a date. This wasn't just a fancy client dinner.
