Chapter 80: Catching the Bouquet (Part 2)

"Oh," Claire muttered, sounding a little out of it. Lauren, noticing something was off, took a couple of steps forward and glanced back. "Claire, are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale." She looked around, her eyes scanning the crowd. "And where's Lucas? I haven't seen him anywhere!"

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"Ah, he, he might have—"

"Forget him! Anyway, catching the bouquet means happiness for you two as a couple. Remember, be quick! Or someone else might snatch it up first." With a playful wink, Lauren ran back up to the stage, where she linked her arm with Roy's. One of the wedding staff members handed her a half-circle bouquet made of white roses, lisianthus, and ivy.

Resisting the urge to look back for Lucas's tall, familiar figure, Claire refocused on the stage. Just then, she caught Lauren's eye; her friend raised the bouquet, giving her a meaningful look.

Claire smiled, nodded, and stepped a little further into the crowd. But she didn't notice someone emerging from the group just as she moved forward. And then—"thud!" She collided head-on, her petite face pressing right against his chest. The sudden impact stung her nose, and her eyes instantly welled up with tears.

Just at that moment, the crowd erupted into cheers as Lauren's bouquet soared through the air, tracing a graceful arc before heading straight in Claire's direction. Recalling Lauren's insistence that she had to catch it, Claire ignored her possibly bruised nose and reached out.

There was a loud "whoosh—" and then—"thud!"

The sound of Claire's catch and a mysterious object hitting the ground occurred almost simultaneously.

For a good thirty seconds, Claire remained frozen, her mind blank, before realizing the sounds had come from her. But—why didn't falling hurt? In fact, there was something soft and warm beneath her. She noticed the crowd, who had gathered around her, staring down with various expressions. Some looked amused, some curious, some envious, and more than a few seemed… jealous? What was going on? Sure, she'd caught the bouquet, but did that really warrant those kinds of looks? And shouldn't someone at least offer her a helping hand to stand up?

"Miss, how long are you planning to lie on top of me?" A deep voice sounded—below her?

Claire jolted, her gaze snapping downward, and then she quickly looked away, her heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe.

Oh no. There was a man—underneath her!

"Claire, are you alright? Did you fall?" Lauren's concerned voice came through, punctuated by the clicking of her heels. Claire's disoriented thoughts snapped back into place, and she quickly tried to get up.

But her pink dress was split at the side, and the way she'd fallen, with her legs together, had at least saved her from any wardrobe malfunctions. If she wanted to stand up alone, though, she'd have to spread her legs a bit to brace herself, which would—well, it wouldn't leave much to the imagination.

By then, Lauren had hurried over. She froze at the sight of Claire sprawled on the ground, leaning against a man's chest, utterly at a loss.

"Lauren, could you lend me a hand?" Oh great, now her friend was just standing there, staring!

Before Lauren could offer her hand, the man beneath Claire placed a firm grip on her waist, effortlessly helping her stand with a single, swift motion that left the onlookers speechless.

"Oh please, you weren't planning to let my dear friend Claire keep using you as a sunshade, were you?" Lauren teased, glancing at the man—Blaine Jackson—with a playful smirk. Not waiting for him to answer, she pointed a finger his way. "And by the way, think you can take your paws off her now?" She rolled her eyes. Just because he was a strikingly good-looking guy didn't give him the right to get handsy.

"Lauren, you've got it all wrong!" Claire quickly stepped away from him, her face flushed bright red. "I was trying to catch the bouquet, but I got shoved by the crowd, and we both just… landed like that. He kind of, um, broke my fall…"

Blaine raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, his sharp gaze taking on a mischievous glint.

"Claire Grace, this isn't the first time we've met, is it?" He gave a slow, crooked smile, revealing an irresistible charm that dazzled several of the nearby women.

Claire hadn't recognized him at first in the collision, but when she heard Lauren call his name, she remembered meeting him before.

"Huh?" Not the first time? Claire looked up at him, inspecting his features. Her gaze softened, captivated.

Captivated, indeed. The word was fitting. His skin was smooth and fair, his nose slightly angled, his lips almost perfectly sculpted. But what truly drew her in were his eyes—long, expressive, with a hint of blue that sparkled. She found herself thinking, *Wow, he looks like he stepped out of a movie.*

"You're… really beautiful!" she blurted out, momentarily forgetting that he was, in fact, a man.

Around them, a few gasps could be heard.

Of course, most of the onlookers knew Blaine Jackson, the renowned stylist who'd recently returned from France. With his flawless features, he was often described in terms like beautiful or gorgeous, which he absolutely despised, along with "handsome" or "cool." But nothing irked him more than being called… beautiful.

So it wasn't hard to guess Blaine's next reaction.

A dark expression, a short grunt, and then—he turned and walked away without another word.