57 The Man in My Dream

Harper's POV

Marco was wearing a discounted hoodie we’d picked up at the supermarket yesterday. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I wasn’t willing to spend more on him—it was him who refused.

“Breakfast is ready, but it might be a bit tight on time,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Go wash up, I’ll pack it for you to eat on the way.”

After leaving the house, he insisted on driving, so I sat in the backseat with the window open, nibbling on the sandwich he had made.

“Is it good?” he asked, stopping at a red light and giving me a quick, handsome side profile.

“It’s delicious,” I said with my mouth full, feeling like a chipmunk. I didn’t expect that dreaming could be so physically exhausting. But really, his sandwich was amazing.

“Thank you,” I said, mimicking the actors in Japanese dramas, trying to speak in a not-so-fluent Japanese accent. He chuckled, clearly amused.

“You’ve got great energy today, Harper. Give it your all at work too.”

Ah, this guy! I had vented to him yesterday