It doesn’t mean anything.
But my throat tightens to the point of pain as I try to block the noise out and focus on the music. The band on stage are regulars, and I hum the melody as I weave through the crowd, focusing on that instead of the panic that creeps into the back of my mind.
My left wrist strains under the weight of the glasses, and I adjust the tray as I slip around a group of singing freshmen from the local campus. One of them staggers back, bumping into me.
Shit—
A warm pair of hands close over mine, swallowing them up as they steady the teetering glasses with an easy strength that my stupid wrist can’t possibly match. The man moves with me as I back away from the danger zone, gripping the tray tightly as we shift over to where a small space in the queue opens up. Together, we place the tray down on the bar.
Swallowing, I step back as soon as he releases his hands. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
That voice – low, rumbling, with just a hint of teasing laughter – has me glancing up.
Andwoah.
He watches me just as intently as I let my eyes trail over him. Dark blonde hair, mussed on top of his head in a riot of curls that he pushes away from his face, revealing deep, vibrant brown eyes set against lightly tanned skin and surrounded by ridiculously long blond eyelashes that the girls I grew up with would have killed for.
Hell, I would have killed for them too. Once.
His smile grows, flashing pearly white teeth and a dimple as easily as breathing – like he’s used to laughing. But there are circles under his eyes, deep purple rings as if he doesn’t get enough sleep.
This guy is lethal, but he doesn’t look as if he knows it. His gaze is almost shy as it flickers over my face, dancing over my hair, my eyes, my scar. He doesn’t even blink before his eyes return to mine, and his smile deepens further. There’s something there – almost a question. Neither of us move away.
Damn, he’s pretty.
I could—
No, Emmy. Down, girl.
I’ve never been tempted before. Never.
This is not the time to start messing with dark-eyed boys who look like heartbreakers.
Nodding at him, I offer a small smile. “Thanks again.”
Something flits across his expression then. Something that surprises me.
Because it looks an awful lot like grief, before his smile returns, teasing as he repeats his earlier words.
“No problem.”
2
Ben
Turn around, Benjamin.
Walk the fuck away.
You’re not here to tangle with pretty girls in bars. She’s not for you.
I take a small step away from her, slipping my hands into my pockets as she thanks me again. The tower of glasses nearly took her out, the stack higher than her damn head as she tried to weave through the crowd.
I force myself to smile again. “No problem.”
But she pauses. A small furrow appears between her deep blue eyes as she watches me, and my breathing stutters.
