Jamie Last looks radiant.
Baxter cannot take his eyes off of her. He knew she would shine in the spotlight, but he had no idea just how resplendent she would look at his side. They are seated together at a media event, on the invitation of his aunt and uncle from Northern California, something he does as a favour to people that help and prize him, as well as an opportunity to promote his business with the right sort of people, those who can pay exorbitant prices for his services.
They had both been rather nervous for a time, but now he sees that he had been selling her short. It is her first public appearance as his partner, and the first time she attends something fancier than a country club get-together, it is an evening affair that has everyone dressed in their finest haute couture, but still, she lights the room like no-one else. To him, they may as well be dressed in rags for all they matter, for all they compare to his dates. She is polite and humorous, managing to join conversations and give intelligent responses to all sort of topics, impressing the attendees on her insights on art, fashion, funding and social issues.
Yet, not all is right and easy. The flash of the cameras does not seem to bother her too much, nor does the cold hostility of some of the guests ever phase her, but he can feel it when Jamie occasionally squeezes his hand a little tighter under the table, seeking his assurance. He can hear her nerves in the quickened patter of her heart.
Baxter squeezes her hand in return, and it prompts her to look at him. He sees it as if in slow motion. She turns, her gaze finding first his smile, his sparkling white teeth primed for the cameras. Her eyes lift to meet his, and the smile she returns to him is so intimate, so entirely for him, it steals his breath away. He forgets that the rest of the world exists. It makes his chest feel tight, like his heart has grown too large for the cage of his ribs.
He leans in to whisper in her ear.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to just sit here and be so close, but not be able to kiss you?" He asks, his voice a warm rumble, a pleasant sound drowning out the classical music and the chatter all around them.
His cheek is close enough to hers that he can feel the way she warms up with a flush, covered by the layers of tasteful night-time make-up. The quiet way she laughs in response to his teasing is music to his ears. She presses her lips together in that mischievous way he loves. It means she is about to say something he knows he will like.
"Well, why don't you?" She teases him back, the chuckle still hanging on the tips of her red-painted lips.
Jamie barely finishes her sentence when Baxter kisses her, his large and soft hand cupped over the side of her face. His hand and arm obscure the press of her lips from the media circus.
The flashes from the photographers covering the event set off like fireworks around them, hoping for a good shot of an otherwise mundane night. The rapid-fire noise of camera shutters sound like gunfire, something out of the war movie they were supposed to be promoting, but it all fades away into the background as the two of them kiss, the beat of her heart gradually calming.
This power he has over Jamie is intoxicating, and the fact he is not shy about leveraging it over her is exciting, almost fun. She always forgets herself when she is around this man, for good or bad. No matter how nervous she is, there has never been a cliff he could not walk her down from. When her heart pounds and her eyes are glassy, she seeks the warmth of his embrace without fail.
Baxter, for his part, never tires of feeling her pulse turning steady against him, held tight in his arms. Similarly, his lovely girlfriend has never faulted him his needs, even those he does not recognize or that he sets out for himself all on his stupid own. Through his difficult nights, through his relationship with his parents and trying to get the trust of her family back, through the trials and pains of learning to love one another, sharp edges and all, her words and her touches have brought him a peace he thought only existed in the fantasy of film.
He was raised to keep a certain image, to behave with the polish his social position demanded and not to let emotions cloud his judgement. He was trained to go through life holding his cards close to his chest, to not let anyone get too close. For so long, he floated through life, putting distance between him and the rest of the world, even with his girlfriend herself.
It had been a grave mistake, one that cost him five entire years of the happiness he is so jealous of these days, that he has known before. It took a lot of effort, something he does not necessarily deserved, to pull his head off his ass. Being with her, calling her his girlfriend, it feels like a superpower all its own.
When Baxter pulls back, her smile is brighter, a little giddy, her cheeks thoroughly blushed. His eyes are warm, crinkled at the corners from the sheer width of his smile.
"Better?" She asks quietly.
"Me? I'm just getting warmed up, love." He answers, flashing her a little wink.
With that, Baxter drops his hand back to the table, armed and ready to once more face the stupid party. He is sure he can eventually convince Jamie to leave early, he has plenty to show her at their hotel room tonight.