Craving Cinderella: My Curvy Valentine

As soon as he sees me, his eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a long, low whistle.

"Damn, Ellie,” he murmurs as I draw closer to him. "You look... incredible."

"Thanks," I reply, feeling a little heat come to my cheeks. I’m hoping that he can’t tell. I never much believed in the princess moment before now, but standing here, with him looking at me with that expression on his face, it’s hard not to think that there might be something to it.

He opens the door for me and helps me inside, offering me his hand so I don’t slip in my heels. And as soon as our skin touches, I feel a jolt of electricity run through me. It’s like something has given way inside of my heart. Any wariness that I might have been holding onto falters.

"What movie is this, again?" I ask him. He leans towards me to answer, and I catch the scent of that aftershave of his once more. God, it smells so good. I just want to lean over and bury my face in his neck.

"Only Chances," he replies. "It’s a romantic drama. Valentine’s Day release, right?"

"Makes sense," I agree. So, I’m going to a movie where I get to watch him play the romantic lead, except I get the real thing beside me the whole time, too? I can’t think of much better than that...

"You like the movies?" he asks, and I nod at once.

"I love them," I reply. "I used to go every weekend with my dad. We’d go and see anything that was on, even if it was crappy."

"Hopefully this will only remind you of happy times," he says softly. Our eyes meet and I know he must have heard something about my past. He keeps hold of my hand and it feels like the moment is suspended. I’m sitting right next to him and the energy is electric. Alive. I want to lose myself in it. In him.

The drive lasts about an hour. Ethan and I sip on champagne and we ask one another questions, trying to get to know one another. But it seems like I’ve known him a long time. Our eyes keep meeting, our knees bump, my heart – it pounds.

When the limo pulls to a halt, I can already hear people outside the car door, calling his name, shouting for him, cameras flashing in anticipation of him getting out of the car. I want to cower and hold back, but I know that I haven’t come this far to back out now.

"You ready?" he asks, and I nod.

"As I’ll ever be," I reply, and he takes my hand, and leads me from the limousine.

It’s like nothing that I have ever seen before. There are photographers lining the red carpet that leads into the theater, and all of them seem focused on me, on him, on the two of us together.

People call for my attention and I’m not sure where to look, so I just keep focused on the way Ethan’s fingers are wrapped around mine, the way he guides me forward with a comfortable smile on his face. It’s clear that he’s done this a million times before, and he is totally confident in this place. Thank goodness, because I’m not sure that I ever could be.

Finally, we make it inside the theater, and Ethan smiles down at me.

"You good?" he asks, his breath warm against my ear.

I realize that I have been holding my breath this entire time, and I nod. "I’m good," I reply, and he slips an arm around my waist and guides me towards the bar so we can get a drink. I can feel people looking, eyes on the two of us, and I realize in that instant that I am going to be the focus of a whole hell of a lot of gossip tomorrow morning.

But that’s for tomorrow-me to worry about. Right now, I just want to have fun. And with this gorgeous man on my arm, it’s not going to be difficult to do just that.

He is the center of attention at this event – even his co-star, a beautiful young woman who looks like she could have just walked off a runway in Paris or Milan, is doting over him. They laugh together with ease and I try to push down any sense of jealousy that rises up in me. I have to remind myself he invited me to come to this thing with him – and the comforting pressure of his arm around my waist, steady and strong, grounds me once more.

When the movie starts, he leads me to the back row of the cinema, flashing me a playful grin as he does. I have only had a couple of glasses of champagne, but I feel as though my feet are barely touching the ground. Is this what it’s like, being with him? I could get used to it.