That pout drove him all sorts of crazy. "Crazy" was definitely the right word, he knew, because sometimes he liked to continue doing whatever it was that has brought the pout about, just so it would stay a little while longer. It was definitely her fault for being so damned cute, Derek protested! He was only so much of a good mother's boy—and he fully acknowledged that he was the sort who liked to tug on plaits and do ridiculous and embarrassing things to catch the attention of the girl he liked.
He really liked Giada.
Pulling her closer by her hand so that he could slip his free one around her waist, he looked at her with what he liked to think were his soulful and persuasive baby blues. "Don't you trust me?" Derek's voice was teasingly hurt as his brows drew together. "I would think, by the end of this month, you'd know I'd never let you get into trouble..."
Oh yes, his grin was rakish. Derek thought he could sense her uneasiness, that the big one-month late night celebrations (in his dormitory…) might be leading to something a bit more. Of course, he would never—could not ever, and certainly not in the first month, and would, at some point, relieve his lovely if devilishly flirtatious girlfriend of her worries—but it was still the most evil bit of fun watching her squirm just a little. Crazy, he did say!
"I'll walk you back and protect you from the evil caretaker," he whispered, close to her ear. "Or… you could stay the whole night. I'll be the perfect gentleman. Won't even lay a finger on you unless you ask me to."
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