Read Online Finding the Magic (Tom Kelly's Boys Book 1) by Casey McMillin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Casey McMillin
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ripples of his abdomen.
It was simply too much to take in. His face was so beautiful that I wouldn't hesitate to use the word angelic to describe it. He had a strong nose and jaw with full lips, and gorgeous, stormy-blue eyes that had a natural squint and could pierce like a knife. Add the long, dirty blonde surfer hair and three days worth of stubble on his jawline, and it was all I could do not to crack up laughing out of nerves at the sight of him.
"You should have told me you looked like this. I would have told you to come over at eight instead of five." He smiled when he said it, and I was so completely distracted by his gorgeousness that it took me a minute to figure out that he was paying me a compliment.
"I can come back," I said turning as if I was about to head back down the stairs. I looked back at him with a little smirk, expecting him to laugh or at least say something in response to my joke. He didn't smile. He just regarded me with an expression I couldn't figure out.
"I'm just playing," I said.
I assumed he'd invite me in as I continued to walk, but he didn't move when I approached, so when I was only a foot or two from him, I stopped walking and looked up. He just stood there casually and stared at me like he had all day.
I was nervous and flustered and didn't know what to say. I wondered if he could tell how bent out of shape I was.
When it was obvious that he wasn't going to move, I took a step back. "Are you bringing the furniture out here?" I asked.
"No," he said, smiling casually.
I just looked from side to side as if I must be missing something. Finally I looked back at him and was floored at how comfortable he seemed to make eye contact with me.
I wasn't comfortable with it at all. His gorgeousness was mesmerizing, and I thought I might just be put under some sort of spell if I looked right at him.
"What's your story?" he asked. He cocked his head in a curious expression as if the question was serious. I giggled and he narrowed his eyes, offended. "What's your story?" he repeated. "Tell me something about you."
I shook my head, smiling and unable to believe he was going to stand there until I thought of something to tell him. "I was a famous pianist until a few months ago, and now I'm going back to school to become a teacher."
He studied me as if my statement had genuinely surprised him. I hadn't planned on telling him the truth, but I had an uncontrollable urge to use the word famous about myself after I realized he was even more gorgeous than I thought.
"Why'd you quit being famous?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"That wasn't my plan," I said, giggling a little bit to keep it light. "That part sort of just happened."
"What happened?" he asked.
I gave him a frustrated glance as if I shouldn't have to answer that question. "I should have probably told you my name when you asked for some information about me. Let's start over. My name is Addison. Addison Connor."
He made a shocked expression. "Addison Connor? The Addison Connor? I didn't know that's who you were." He shook his head in disappointment. "We were big fans."
I put my head in my hands. "Seriously," I asked weakly. I was so humiliated.
"No."
I glanced at him. "What? Do you really know who I am?"
"No," he said, laughing. "I'm just messin' with you." He reached out and ruffed my hair like I was his little sister, and I glared at him for tricking me like that.
He regarded me with an expression that turned from smiling to serious. He seemed so comfortable standing in the doorway that I wondered if we'd ever go inside. "Did you choke in front of a huge audience?" he asked. I stared at him for a few seconds, contemplating lying before I responded.
"That's exactly what I did. I was playing with the London Phil, and I completely forgot the piece. It just inexplicably left my brain. Anyway, it's over now and I'm going to be a teacher. Life goes on. Can we go inside and look at the furniture?"
He regarded me patiently as if
It was simply too much to take in. His face was so beautiful that I wouldn't hesitate to use the word angelic to describe it. He had a strong nose and jaw with full lips, and gorgeous, stormy-blue eyes that had a natural squint and could pierce like a knife. Add the long, dirty blonde surfer hair and three days worth of stubble on his jawline, and it was all I could do not to crack up laughing out of nerves at the sight of him.
"You should have told me you looked like this. I would have told you to come over at eight instead of five." He smiled when he said it, and I was so completely distracted by his gorgeousness that it took me a minute to figure out that he was paying me a compliment.
"I can come back," I said turning as if I was about to head back down the stairs. I looked back at him with a little smirk, expecting him to laugh or at least say something in response to my joke. He didn't smile. He just regarded me with an expression I couldn't figure out.
"I'm just playing," I said.
I assumed he'd invite me in as I continued to walk, but he didn't move when I approached, so when I was only a foot or two from him, I stopped walking and looked up. He just stood there casually and stared at me like he had all day.
I was nervous and flustered and didn't know what to say. I wondered if he could tell how bent out of shape I was.
When it was obvious that he wasn't going to move, I took a step back. "Are you bringing the furniture out here?" I asked.
"No," he said, smiling casually.
I just looked from side to side as if I must be missing something. Finally I looked back at him and was floored at how comfortable he seemed to make eye contact with me.
I wasn't comfortable with it at all. His gorgeousness was mesmerizing, and I thought I might just be put under some sort of spell if I looked right at him.
"What's your story?" he asked. He cocked his head in a curious expression as if the question was serious. I giggled and he narrowed his eyes, offended. "What's your story?" he repeated. "Tell me something about you."
I shook my head, smiling and unable to believe he was going to stand there until I thought of something to tell him. "I was a famous pianist until a few months ago, and now I'm going back to school to become a teacher."
He studied me as if my statement had genuinely surprised him. I hadn't planned on telling him the truth, but I had an uncontrollable urge to use the word famous about myself after I realized he was even more gorgeous than I thought.
"Why'd you quit being famous?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"That wasn't my plan," I said, giggling a little bit to keep it light. "That part sort of just happened."
"What happened?" he asked.
I gave him a frustrated glance as if I shouldn't have to answer that question. "I should have probably told you my name when you asked for some information about me. Let's start over. My name is Addison. Addison Connor."
He made a shocked expression. "Addison Connor? The Addison Connor? I didn't know that's who you were." He shook his head in disappointment. "We were big fans."
I put my head in my hands. "Seriously," I asked weakly. I was so humiliated.
"No."
I glanced at him. "What? Do you really know who I am?"
"No," he said, laughing. "I'm just messin' with you." He reached out and ruffed my hair like I was his little sister, and I glared at him for tricking me like that.
He regarded me with an expression that turned from smiling to serious. He seemed so comfortable standing in the doorway that I wondered if we'd ever go inside. "Did you choke in front of a huge audience?" he asked. I stared at him for a few seconds, contemplating lying before I responded.
"That's exactly what I did. I was playing with the London Phil, and I completely forgot the piece. It just inexplicably left my brain. Anyway, it's over now and I'm going to be a teacher. Life goes on. Can we go inside and look at the furniture?"
He regarded me patiently as if
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