Chapter 1232 Feelings That Shouldn't Exist
The three of them reached their verdict almost simultaneously.
"This is the one," Charles declared with finality.
"Perfect," Hannah agreed, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction.
"Stella, no more deliberating," Randy added with quiet authority. "It's elegant without being ostentatious—you'll complement Hannah beautifully while still looking absolutely stunning."
Stella turned once more before the mirror, her reflection confirming what everyone already knew. "Then it's settled. No point in second-guessing perfection."
Even the manager couldn't contain his professional enthusiasm. "Miss, I've dressed countless clients, but no one has ever worn this gown quite like you. It's as if it were created specifically for your figure."
Stella beamed at the flattery, her earlier reservations melting away completely. "You certainly know how to make a sale—no wonder you're the manager!"
Randy's selection proved refreshingly straightforward. He gravitated toward white, choosing a crisp suit that would complement Charles's black tuxedo perfectly. But when it came to accessories, he selected a crimson tie that matched Stella's dress exactly, paired with a pristine white shirt that echoed her delicate jacket.
When Randy emerged from the fitting room, Stella felt her breath catch. The tailored lines of his suit sculpted his athletic frame with devastating precision, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean build. His features, always striking, seemed almost ethereal under the boutique's flattering lights—the sharp line of his jaw, the aristocratic nose, and those impossibly deep eyes that seemed to hold secrets she'd never noticed before.
She'd always known her cousin was handsome—the kind of devastating good looks that belonged in magazines rather than real life.
"God, you're absolutely gorgeous," she said with characteristic directness, though her voice carried an edge she didn't recognize. "If you weren't my cousin, I'd be plotting to steal you away before some other woman gets her claws into you. It's almost criminal how unfair genetics can be."
The words tumbled out as a joke, but underneath lay a truth that surprised even her. If circumstances were different, if they weren't bound by blood and convention...
Randy's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "If you approve, then we're done here."
"More than approve," Stella said, forcing brightness into her voice. "You and Charles will make quite the pair—one in black, one in white, both devastatingly handsome. Hannah's guests won't know where to look first."
With their selections finalized and time to spare, the group found themselves with an unexpected free afternoon. Hannah, restless with pre-wedding energy, suggested they catch the new horror film that had just opened, followed by some rock climbing at the entertainment complex below the theater.
At the cinema, while Charles queued for tickets and Randy handled refreshments, the women settled into the plush lobby chairs. Charles returned looking skeptical about their movie choice.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked Hannah, waving the tickets. "The clerk warned me it's genuinely terrifying—apparently several people have walked out in tears. Should you really be subjecting the baby to that kind of stress?"
Hannah laughed, one hand resting protectively on her still-flat stomach. "If this little one can't handle a scary movie, how will they survive having me as a mother?"
Charles sighed in defeat but remained firm. "Promise me you'll speak up if you feel uncomfortable. We leave immediately, no heroics."
The theater was sparsely populated—a Tuesday afternoon horror showing wasn't exactly prime time entertainment. They settled into their seats with Hannah and Stella together, flanked by their respective partners in what seemed like a carefully orchestrated arrangement.
As the opening credits rolled, Stella assumed her characteristic movie-watching position: spine straight, eyes locked on the screen, one hand automatically reaching for popcorn. Randy's hand happened to be reaching for the same bucket, and their fingers brushed in the darkness.
The innocent contact sent an unexpected jolt through Randy's system. He glanced down at their shared armrest, suddenly hyperaware of every casual touch as Stella continued her unconscious snacking. When her fingers accidentally closed around his hand instead of popcorn, she quickly corrected course with an absent-minded giggle, stuffing a handful of kernels into her mouth.
Randy found himself studying her profile in the flickering light of the screen. Her hair was twisted into a loose chignon, with rebellious tendrils framing the elegant curve of her neck. The way her lips moved as she chewed, the subtle fragrance that seemed to emanate from her skin—details he'd never noticed before suddenly demanded his attention.
An unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest, accompanied by a restlessness he couldn't name. In twenty-seven years of life, he'd never experienced anything quite like this peculiar combination of tenderness and electricity.
He was still trying to process these unwelcome sensations when the film's first major scare sent Stella launching herself into his arms with a shriek of genuine terror. Suddenly she was pressed against his chest, her face buried in his shoulder, her entire body trembling with adrenaline.
"Oh my God, that was horrible!" she gasped, her breath warm against his neck.
Randy's carefully controlled composure shattered completely. His heart hammered against his ribs with such violence he was certain she could feel it through his shirt. Every rational thought fled as her proximity overwhelmed his senses, leaving him struggling to remember why this felt so dangerous, so absolutely forbidden.
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