"I hate it."
"Tell me, what do you hate."
"Your entire back is exposed."
"Hay nako, It's just a back, everyone knows what a back of a person looks like"
"But only I get to know what the back of Kathryn Bernardo looks like"
"You are ridiculous," she scoffed at the whiny voice he made.
"Bal...how 'bout....We ditch this entire thing and eat at Jollibee, hah?" he turned his eyes away from the road to gaze at her. "Let's be spontaneous."
"Not if you want a hundred news reporters at our front door wondering why we skipped out on the grand annual ball for chicken wings . Plus, KFC would give us hell if we ever step foot in a Jollibee."
"Maybe we won't get caught if we use the drive-thru..." he grumbled.
"In this mercedes benz??"
He continued to grumble incoherently under his breath as he turned a corner.
"It even accentuates your ass..."
"Hoy hoy, we are not having this conversation anymore, okay? It's the first time a dress designer succeeded in creating a piece I envisioned."
At the red-light, he took a sidelong glance at his passenger, who was now smoothing down her white evening gown in gentle motions, marveling at the feel of the fabric.
"I'm practically wearing a piece of art right now." She smiled to herself as she rested an elbow on the console and propped her chin on her hand, already fantasizing her grand entrance when she walks through the gate. His face softened into a grin as he looked back at the road. He just can't help but feel butterflies when she's smiling like that.
The couple continued to stare into traffic in now comfortable silence.
"...Kath...Bal..." He started again, to which she hummed in response. "It's the dress that's wearing a piece of art." he smirked, barely containing his pride in that smooth remark as he reached over to squeeze her hand.
All the while she kept her eyes trained straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge it.
"...You're the art I was referring to, if you didn't get-"
"I got it, you cornball." she sighed in defeat. "I got it." Her hand squeezed back.