to the pulsing pit of Andie’s stomach. Coffee still in one hand, he casually spread his arms, palms up, in front of her. “You were reading.”
Well, he was just so damned good at playing coy, wasn’t he? “ Am reading.” She picked the book back up and tried to concentrate on the words jumping around on the page, completely aware that his smug smirk had widened into a full-fledged grin. If she didn’t know better, she would swear she could see his eyes flashing behind their dark shields. Bully for him to feel so protected behind his mask. He was enjoying her discomfort. Damn him, for the millionth time. She fixed her eyes on the page. She would read the same stupid word all afternoon if she had to.
Guy uncrossed his legs, put his foot back on the ground, and palmed both knees as he surveyed the café, which seemed to have become suddenly and bizarrely empty. Hadn’t there just been a crowd in here two seconds ago? With his attention momentarily off her, she was able to steal a glance at him. He was no longer smirking. In fact, he looked in deep thought, his lips set in a straight line like he was mulling over something internally. Maybe he had been pondering something earlier and not just being a smug little—
Abruptly, he stood, swung his chair to the empty space to her left, and sat again. A whiff of his scent washed over her—leather and the smell of wind, if that was a thing. He leaned over the armrest and peered into the pages over Andie’s shoulder, filling Andie’s peripheral vision with shades of black leather and brown hair. “So tell me more about this brilliant juxtaposition by our friend”—he reached over her and tipped the book forward to see its cover—“Mr. Justin.” The muffled way his voice sounded against the hair over her ear was almost like it was coming from beneath bed sheets. Grooooan.
Andie said a quick prayer that she would breathe normally. He was startlingly close to her, almost as close as yesterday, so close that she knew if she turned her face even the slightest bit toward his, their noses would touch. And, again like yesterday, he seemed to radiate the temptation of danger—dark, sensuous danger—that made Andie’s knees wobble even though she was sitting down. As delicious as it was, the effect he had on her was infuriating. It was probably the most frustrating feeling in the world not to be in control of her emotions. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t sixteen—her hormones had better get themselves in check.
“Look, guy. Guy.” She corrected herself, put more emphasis on the G. She'd meant to say his name as an uppercase, damn it. Maybe no one else could tell the difference, but she could. She swiveled in the chair to face him, taking care to pull back lest she be sucked into her hypnotic undertow of chiseled cheekbones and bated breath.
“Let’s just put it out on the table. I get that I probably should have introduced myself better the other day, but you don’t get to freak out on me because you assumed I was somebody different, and then basically materialize out of thin air beside me and expect me to fall all over myself for you. This isn’t a”—she waved her hand dismissively—“a comic convention or something. I’m not that kind of girl.”
There, fine, I said it .
For a few heartbeats, they sat, eyes locked, and sizing each other up like they were waiting to see who would break first. Andie’s heart felt like it might flutter straight out of her chest if he didn’t respond soon, but she would be damned if she’d let up now.
“Yeah,” he muttered finally, sounding defeated and turning away as he slouched lower into his chair. One hand rose up and scratched at his ear. Something hard about him seemed to soften as he pulled the sunglasses away from his face and twisted their arms inside his hands in that same nervous manner he’d done yesterday. “You’re right. I’m sorry; that was a jerk move on my part. I shouldn’t have reacted like
Well, he was just so damned good at playing coy, wasn’t he? “ Am reading.” She picked the book back up and tried to concentrate on the words jumping around on the page, completely aware that his smug smirk had widened into a full-fledged grin. If she didn’t know better, she would swear she could see his eyes flashing behind their dark shields. Bully for him to feel so protected behind his mask. He was enjoying her discomfort. Damn him, for the millionth time. She fixed her eyes on the page. She would read the same stupid word all afternoon if she had to.
Guy uncrossed his legs, put his foot back on the ground, and palmed both knees as he surveyed the café, which seemed to have become suddenly and bizarrely empty. Hadn’t there just been a crowd in here two seconds ago? With his attention momentarily off her, she was able to steal a glance at him. He was no longer smirking. In fact, he looked in deep thought, his lips set in a straight line like he was mulling over something internally. Maybe he had been pondering something earlier and not just being a smug little—
Abruptly, he stood, swung his chair to the empty space to her left, and sat again. A whiff of his scent washed over her—leather and the smell of wind, if that was a thing. He leaned over the armrest and peered into the pages over Andie’s shoulder, filling Andie’s peripheral vision with shades of black leather and brown hair. “So tell me more about this brilliant juxtaposition by our friend”—he reached over her and tipped the book forward to see its cover—“Mr. Justin.” The muffled way his voice sounded against the hair over her ear was almost like it was coming from beneath bed sheets. Grooooan.
Andie said a quick prayer that she would breathe normally. He was startlingly close to her, almost as close as yesterday, so close that she knew if she turned her face even the slightest bit toward his, their noses would touch. And, again like yesterday, he seemed to radiate the temptation of danger—dark, sensuous danger—that made Andie’s knees wobble even though she was sitting down. As delicious as it was, the effect he had on her was infuriating. It was probably the most frustrating feeling in the world not to be in control of her emotions. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t sixteen—her hormones had better get themselves in check.
“Look, guy. Guy.” She corrected herself, put more emphasis on the G. She'd meant to say his name as an uppercase, damn it. Maybe no one else could tell the difference, but she could. She swiveled in the chair to face him, taking care to pull back lest she be sucked into her hypnotic undertow of chiseled cheekbones and bated breath.
“Let’s just put it out on the table. I get that I probably should have introduced myself better the other day, but you don’t get to freak out on me because you assumed I was somebody different, and then basically materialize out of thin air beside me and expect me to fall all over myself for you. This isn’t a”—she waved her hand dismissively—“a comic convention or something. I’m not that kind of girl.”
There, fine, I said it .
For a few heartbeats, they sat, eyes locked, and sizing each other up like they were waiting to see who would break first. Andie’s heart felt like it might flutter straight out of her chest if he didn’t respond soon, but she would be damned if she’d let up now.
“Yeah,” he muttered finally, sounding defeated and turning away as he slouched lower into his chair. One hand rose up and scratched at his ear. Something hard about him seemed to soften as he pulled the sunglasses away from his face and twisted their arms inside his hands in that same nervous manner he’d done yesterday. “You’re right. I’m sorry; that was a jerk move on my part. I shouldn’t have reacted like
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