his eyes never leaving mine as he cuts around the bar,
then around bodies,
through conversations,
through someone's laughter,
none of it touching him.
My heart’s pounding so loud
I’m convinced he’ll hear it.
The room shrinks as he closes the space between us.
His eyes drag over me slow?—
top to bottom, back up?—
seeing all of me,
taking me in after five days of nothing.
My chest rises as he approaches.
Then he’s standing between me and the guy,
boxing him out.
Right here.
Close.
His breath’s not steady.
It's not wild, but not calm either.
The tension is rolling off him.
His hand grips the back of my chair,
jaw clenched as the navy in his eyes flick across my features.
Every inch of me wants to bolt.
Except the part leaning into him.
My shoulder brushes the heat of his chest.
Then he turns to Louis. Liam.
Whatever-the-fuck.
“Yo, bro—she’s off-limits,” Andrew says, smiling, pushing his sleeve up, seeming unbothered as he lifts his chin. “We good?”
The guy sizes Andrew up?—
six-foot-nothing of nerve, lean limbs,
