We find a quiet booth tucked away in the corner and sit down.
“So, how was your class?”she asks, taking a sip of her milkshake.
“Pretty good,” I say, leaning back in the seat.“How about yours?”
“Not bad,” she replies, though she winces a little.“Although my last class was rough.I’ve got a project due Wednesday and haven’t even started.”She lets out a small laugh.
“That’s…bad, right?”I say, unsure of what else to add.
Leanne laughs again, a genuine sound that makes me smile despite my tiredness.“You’re cute.So, where are you from?”
“I was born in Florida.My mom’s originally from Florida actually and my dad’s from here.”I tug absentmindedly at a loose thread on my hoodie, feeling the weight of the day’s exhaustion catching up with me.“My parents lived in Florida their whole life until they decided to move across the country, to a small town just outside Seattle, when I was ten.”
“Back to the roots, huh?”Leanne says as she chuckles, “You don’t really seem like a Florida guy.”
I glance up at her, shrugging.“Are you British?”
She gives me a mock scandalized look.“Duh, like my accent didn’t give it away?”she teases, and we both chuckle lightly.
There’s a brief pause before Leanne leans forward with a grin.“Hey, there’s a party this Friday.You should come.It’ll be fun—you won’t regret it.”
A party?I’ve never been to one, and honestly, it sounds more stressful than exciting.I have a scholarship to maintain, and getting involved in parties seems like a shortcut to ruining that.Plus, my parents wouldn’t exactly approve.
“Um… I don’t know, Leanne.”I sigh, glancing around the café, trying to find the words to let her down gently.
She’s saying something else, voice animated and upbeat—but I don’t hear a word.My attention has been hijacked.
Two booths behind her, someone is sitting there, hunched over his phone, one arm draped lazily across the back of the booth.He has that kind of effortless cool that doesn’t try too hard—dark jeans hugging long legs, a white tee stretched just enough across a lean chest, and a worn black leather jacket tossed beside him like he owns the place.
Tousled brown hair sticks out from under a backward black cap, strands falling slightly over his forehead.He shifts slightly, and even from this distance, I catch a glimpse of sharp cheekbones, a cut jawline, and full lips curved in a natural scowl.
He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just walk into a room—he takes it over without saying a word.
And then, like hefeelsme watching, his head lifts.
Blue eyes meet mine.Not soft blue.No,icy—the kind that could freeze you in place or set you on fire, depending on his mood.
For a split second, I forget how to breathe.
His gaze holds mine with a quiet, cocky intensity.Like he already knows he’s got my attention.Like he’s daring me to keep looking.
I should look away.Ineedto look away.But I don’t.
My breath catches in my throat.
Who in the world is that?
2
First Impressions
He'sgoodlooking—brightblueeyes, pale skin, full pink lips.There's something in his features that suggests Asian descent, maybe from his mom or grandparents.
Hell, he's gorgeous.
But the disgusted look he shoots me makes my stomach sink.I know that look.It's the kind that doesn't need words to warn you to stay far, far away.
"Did you even hear a word I said?"
