what if it doesn't work out? (ah, but what if it does?)

"You're beautiful,""Oh? Thank you. You're not that bad yourself, in my humble, if not impartial, opinion." he said, apparently taking great pleasure in the blush that burned Boaz' cheeks. "You didn't answer the question. Unless, well, somehow my appearance has something to do with how you're doing.""I'm more than good." Boaz mumbled, the hand in his pocket closing around the little band he had kept there for weeks, playing the conversation related to it over and over in his head. It seemed, though, that all his preparations were for nothing; the words escaped him, pushed down by his heartbeat in his ears.