Heisthe devil.
The devil is standing in front of me.
the meet-cute[trope]
the magical moment when two future lovers collide, often as if they’ve never used basic motor skills before; followed by flirty banter, dramatic eye contact, and at least one ridiculously timed rainstorm
“Are you going to run away again?” Rafael’s voice is low and smooth, and the corners of his full lips are lifted in a hint of a smirk, as though he knows exactly what effect he’s having on me.
A sweaty, sticky, nervous effect.
“E-excuse me?”
“You were staring at me. When I caught you, you gasped and ran away.” My cheeks heat as the subtle scent of something warm lingers around him. “About ten minutes ago. Remember?”
Fuck me, this ismortifying.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Oh, okay.” His brows draw together in mock concern. “Then what’s with the running?”
“I’m not running, I’m… looking for my friend.”
“Hmm.” He points behind me. “She’s over there.”
I turn around, finding Paige in the crowd. Does he know who I am? Or did he see us talking when we came in?
“The only reason you didn’t find me staring back at you is that I was saying hi to an old friend.”
Startled, I turn back, his face much closer than it was before. He looks the same as when I saw him last but also completely different. Older, more manly. There’s a quiet confidence in the way he stands, like he owns the space without trying to. Maybe hardened by time and experience, but also lighter, as if instead of being miserable, he spent the last five years thriving. He’s definitely looking at me differently from how he used to. “Wh-what?”
“I’ve hardly taken my eyes off you since you got here.”
God, his lashes are even longer than I remembered. “What?”
Wait, I already said that.
He chuckles, the deep sound rattling all the way to my stomach. “I’m flirting with you. I’m implying you’re so beautiful that I noticed you the second you entered The Oak.”
Is he? Why? He didn’t think I was beautiful five years ago, and I haven’t changed much. My hair’s still neither curly nor straight, brown but not the vibrant sexy kind, and my skin is plagued with freckles all over. If anything, now I have stuff like cellulite, which I didn’t have back then.
“Do you like dancing?” he asks, giving me some reprieve by taking a step back.
Dancing? Me? I shake my head.
“Then can I buy you a drink?”
“I don’t drink.”
He hums, eyes drifting away for a moment. “So what do you do at parties?”
“I, uh… make sure the walls stay upright.”
One corner of his lips twists, as if it sounds terrible. Makes sense, because Rafael Gray has always been the soul of the party. “It looks like they’re standing just fine by themselves. Want to sit somewhere?”
Okay,whatis this dress made of?
His brows rise. “You don’t talk a lot, do you?”
