“My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The instant sincerity is disconcerting. My hand falls, and I clear my throat, trying to regain my bearings. “Well, announce yourself next time or something.”
“It’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention.”
“Most people don’t think they’re going to be accosted in the library.”
He clicks his tongue. “Still haven’t read up on your Avernia lore, I see. Am I to assume you don’t have a warding amulet or salt packed in your pockets?”
“Uh…no.”
“Pity. A sweet soul like yours would be candy to the spirits around here.” He steps forward with one foot.
Pressing my back against the door, I try to shrink into myself, just so I can avoid that enticing scent of his. He normally isn’t the one to initiate closeness, so his proximity is unnerving.
“Sweet?” I squeak. “That’s a new one.”
“You disagree with my assessment?”
“Normally you hit the mark pretty easily, but if you think sweet is a word to describe me, I’m afraid you must not be looking close enough,” I reply, my gaze settling on the tendons in his throat, straining against his skin.
For some reason, the urge to bite them is strong.
I resist, even as he draws nearer.
“On the contrary,” he says, dropping his voice. “All I do is look at you. For you. To you. It’s become a real problem.”
He leans in again, bracing his forehead against the door above me. Our bodies are inches apart, our clothes brushing, the heat from our skin mingling.
What is happening here?
My mind swims, the sting of his previous rejection still fresh enough for me not to trust whatever this is. Even if my body is on board with little protest.
“Well, I bet it’s one you can easily take care of.” I push up on my tiptoes, letting my lips graze his ear. “I hope you think of me later when you do.”
His breathing hitches, but he seems to shake from the reverie, moving just out of my reach. It’s almost a respectabledistance, probably nothing that would alarm anyonetoomuch if they wandered this way.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
“Uh, it’s a campus library. I’m a student. Do the math, Professor.”
“Right, right. Of course.” He blows out a breath, and a part of me wonders if he isn’t sure what to do or why he cornered me in the first place. “Well, what are you studying or reading? What, um, else interests you outside acting?”
My eyes narrow. “Are you trying to flirt again?”
“That you have to ask tells me I’m still not doing it right.”
The glaring discomfort of his is satisfying. “Flirting requires levity. Humor. Shallow waters. Not minute detail.”
“But I’m not interested in the surface when it comes to you.”
Oh. My heart hammers faster in my chest. “Is that a casting tactic ahead of auditions or a personal agenda?”
“Personal.” He presses his mouth into a thin line. “I’d like to figure you out.”
“I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“Never said that.”
