Three? Do I even really know this guy?
“This is a bit.” I smile with my mouth wide open. “This isn’t real. You’re pulling my leg. You don’t speak three languages.”
“I do.”
I cross my arms as I turn my whole body to face him. “Prove it.”
He runs his hand through his hair, amused by me. “Well, there’s English. I’m speaking to you in it.”
“But you said three,” I press.
“What is the big deal?” He grins, grabbing some napkins. “You don’t speak anything else?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m one of those Americans who feels dumb in Europe because our mother was a terrible teacher and never taught me or Goldie Spanish.”
“You don’t even know a few lines or curse words?”
His phone dings in his back pocket, making him pull it out as my eyes pop open.
“Oh my god. Wait, I remember. It’s Spanish ... that’s three. You spoke it to my mom.”
He laughs and shakes his head as he checks the message. “No, I just know a few things here and there.”
“Then tell me what the third language is.”
His phone dings again, and this time, he smirks, reading the text.
Who’s texting you this early in the day? That’s dumb.
“Read your text,” I blurt out, immediately wishing I could put the words back inside my mouth. But I can’t, so I add, “In the language ...”
His eyes lock with mine as he stares at me for the longest minute, and then the side of his lip quirks up.
“Tes yeux sont couleur champagne et étoiles. Et je veux m’y noyer en te regardant sous moi.”(Your eyes are the color of champagne and stars. And I want to drown in them while I look at you beneath me.)
Jesus Christ.
Our hot dogs are ready, so he turns to get them, letting me grab the drinks. But I feel as ifI’vebeen dipped in that hot batter because Chase speaks French ... like really sexy French. Not that there’s any other version.
I swallow, quietly watching him before I try and squeak out “What did you say?” nonchalantly.
He shrugs, teasing me. “I can’t tell you because it’s none of your business.”
My brows draw together as I blow on my hot dog, following him over to a bench, and we trade a beverage for a dog. “Oh, come on. Make it my business. I just need to know.”
“Why?”
I’m caught. There’s no answer for that question that doesn’t out me as thinking he sounded sexy. And to make matters worse, he’s looking at me like he wants me to take that bait.
I can’t stop smiling out of embarrassment. I’m positive my cheeks are red.
“Fine. Don’t tell me,” I toss back, needing to stop looking at him. I take a bite of my food but immediatelyhashahashaas I chew.
He chuckles. “Want me to say something else?”
I’m not answering that because the only thing I’ll say isYes, please.
He relaxes back onto the bench, his leg crossed and his arm extended across the back as he eats, still staring at my profile.I will not look at you.
