“It’s Austria, Magellan,” Rose says.
“Which is next to Switzerland, right?”
“A-plus,” Rose says as we make our way to the gas station entrance.
“Noah Hayes is in Switzerland right now,” Kelly says with a couple of eyebrow wags.
“Wait, really?” I skip up to come even with them.
Kelly smirks as she pulls open the door. “Do we need to keep an eye on you so you don’t hitchhike to Switzerland?”
“What? No, I just… I like his music.” Understatement of the year right there. The man is a lyrical genius—not to mention wildly handsome in those brooding music videos.
Austin’s browsing the snack shelves, but his gaze flicks to mine, then away again. Still being weird, apparently.
“That face doesn’t hurt either, though, does it?” Kelly winks.
“I admire him as amusician,” I say, annoyed my cheeks are getting warm… and that she pegged my exact thoughts.
“Mmhmm.” They both head for the bathrooms while I make my way to the candy bars.
Noah Hayesisan attractive man, but it’s the fact that his style matches mine so well that draws me to him. He’s a ballad sort of guy, and all his lyrics are just… perfect. I love how unafraid he is of singing about love. Only someone with deep personal experience can manage that type of music.
“Those are good.”
I glance over at Austin, who’s a few feet away, pointing to the candy bars I’m standing in front of.
“Oh, thanks,” I say.
He grabs a package, his arm brushing against mine in the process. I glance at him from the corner of my eye. How much of my conversation with the girls did he hear? I get the feeling he’s not a Noah Hayes fan. Makes sense. The two of them have really different styles. Then again, whatisAustin’s style if it’s not the stuff he sings?
Austin grabs my arm, pulling me close until I’m worried I might fall.
“What’re you doing?” I ask, my heart racing.
He looks behind me and offers a smile and nod.
I follow his gaze and find a man in a wheelchair rolling toward us. The aisle is barely wide enough for him, and I scoot my feet as far forward as I can. My elbow hits the end-cap next to me, and Austin uses his free hand to steady it.
I shift closer to avoid a repeat, wishing I’d thought to step out of the aisle entirely. Now, I’m right up against him as the man in the wheelchair takes his time to make sure he’s not riding over our feet. I appreciate his thoughtfulness, but I’d also take a couple hundred pounds over my toes if it meant my nose wasn’t almost touching Austin’s neck, filling me with unwelcome memories of the other night.
“I fantasize about what it would be like to be yours.”
That’s what he said the other night, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since. I haven’t been able to gethimout of my head since. Which makes no sense. It was a hypothetical scenario. He was proving a point, not confessing a secret.
Well, guess what? Point proven. I have no boundaries around Austin Sheppard. He can whisper sweet, hypothetical nothings in my ear, and I will apparently melt into his arms like a chocolate chip on the surface of the sun.
Austin lets go of my arm and steps back. The wheelchair has cleared our feet, and I reaffirm that it would have been better to break a few toes than experience what just happened in my brain.
I grab the candy bar Austin recommended, hold it up with a smile, and make my way to the checkout—as far away from him as possible. Maybe Ishouldhitchhike to Switzerland.
The lady at the checkout tells me the amount in German, and I pull out my card. Before I can put it on the reader, adifferent card appears, tapping the contactless area on the reader.
“Consider it penance for the chimney cake,” Austin says, already walking away.
I watch him head toward the refrigerated drinks, then shake my head and grab my candy bar just as two girls walk into the gas station.
They go up on their toes, looking around the store for something in particular.
