If only I were a couple of centimeters taller. My fingertips touch the bottom of the shelf I’m reaching for.
He chuckles beside me, leaning his back against the shelves, he crosses his ankles. “You good there?”
Douche.
“Yes,” I mutter out and extend my arm higher, gritting my teeth. I jump slightly, but I have no luck.
Letting out a sigh of frustration, I turn to him. He’s watching me intently with an amused smile plastered on his face. His glasses are low on his nose. Making it possible for me to see his rich eyes.
He sends me a secretive smile. “You need some help?”
“No.” I drag out theOon purpose and roll my eyes at him. Does he not see me struggling over here?
“Here.” His hand touches mine. Not even having to stand on his tippy-toes, he grabs two paperbacks.
Why is he grabbing two?
“I just need one—” I protest, but he cuts me off.
“This”—he holds up one book—“is for me. The other is for you.”
No way. This can’t be real.
“You read?” I ask, my mouth dropping open in shock.
Walking over to the counter, he glances over his shoulder at me. “No, but we’re going to read this together.”
Say what now?
* * *
“So, how will this work?” I ask him as we sit across from one another at an ice cream parlor.
He drops the spoon in his cup, making chocolate ice cream splatter on the white table. Taking off his cap, he runs his hand through his hair. I have to keep in my swoon when he places his cap backward on his head, giving him a boyish look.
Why does that look ten times hotter? Jeez, someone, fan me.
His fingers fiddle with the black ring that’s looped around his finger. “Every day, we read the same number of chapters,” he explains his plan. “Then, we have a conversation about it. We can call it our book club. But we won’t read the full book in one sitting. We have to talk about our thoughts.” He leans back in his seat.
Leo looks at me with a bored expression … like he didn’t just tell me he wants to have a book club with me. I would have never imagined a guy like him to read. His aura screams dark, dangerous, mysterious, andI don’t give a fuck.
Why would he want to read with a weird girl like me? Time will tell, I guess.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.
Picking up his spoon, he flicks it at me.
“Hey!” I exclaim and push my seat back before it can land on my lap.
The dark chocolate ice cream will make me look like I pooped myself. Luckily, no one’s around to witness my outburst because I surely would have caused unwanted attention on myself.
“What was that for?” I ask him with an annoyed tone in my voice. I pick up the spoon from where it landed on the ground and toss it into his empty cup.
“What was that look?” he repeats his question and ignores mine.
What look? Is he crazy or on drugs?
He sighs impatiently. “When I told you about the book, why did you look at me like that?”
