I turn toward the entrance with my cheeks burning. Damn, the line is moving at a snail’s pace, no place to hide. My heart is doing something stupid in my chest, and I take a breath to steady myself. He’s just a man. A ridiculously attractive man in a tailored suit, but still, just a man.
I glance back. He’s still looking at me. He isn't checking his phone or leaving. He’s watching me with an unreadable expression, as if I’m a problem he’s trying to solve. Finally, he starts walking, and I realize he has to cross the queue to leave. He has to pass me.
I should look away. I should dig through my bag or pretend to check my phone, but I stand there like a statue as he approaches.
As he gets closer, I catch his scent. It is clean and woodsy, something like sandalwood and aftershave. He passes so close I could reach out and touch his sleeve. My fingers twitch at my side.
“Hey.”
The word is out before I’ve decided to say it. Those intense eyes land on me again. Up close, his features are almost severe in their perfection. The kind of face that belongs on a coin or a cautionary tale.
“Hi?” he says. It sounds like a question.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “But did the booth just turn you away? Is it sold out?”
The tension in his shoulders eases a fraction. “Yes.”
“Okay, well.” I hold up the extra ticket and feel my cheeks flush. “I have a spare ticket if you want it. My friend bailed.”
He blinks slowly.
“Why?”
The word isn't rude, but his gaze drops to the ticket, then back to my face, like he's waiting for the price tag.
“Because it’s paid for and I’d rather not waste it.” It comes out like a question. My voice is pitching up at the end, betraying my nerves. “I mean, you wanted to get in, and I have an extra, so...”
I trail off. His expression hasn't shifted. I might as well have offered him a ticking package.
“You don’t know me,” he says.
“I don’t know anyone in this city.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I immediately want to take them back. “Look, do you want the ticket or not? I’m trying to do something nice here, and you’re making it weird.”
His eyebrows shoot up. For a second, nothing. Then the corner of his mouth twitches.
“I’m making it weird,” he repeats.
“Yes. You are.”
“In that case, I apologize.” His voice drops half a register, warmer than before. “Thank you. For the ticket.”
He takes it from my hand. Where his fingers brush mine, my skin prickles with heat. I pull back too fast.
I shuffle to the side to make space for him. The woman behind me shoots us a look, but she stays silent. He steps inbeside me. The top of my head barely reaches his shoulder, and suddenly the queue feels a lot smaller.
I stare straight ahead and clutch my bag strap. I am hyper-conscious of the warmth radiating from him. I should say something, anything, but my brain has gone completely blank.
“I’m Kai, by the way.”
I glance up. He has turned to face me properly, one hand extended, as if we’re meeting at a business function.
His grip is firm and warm, but his palm is rougher than I expected.
“Emma.”
“Nice to meet you, Emma.”
The way he lowers his voice when he says my name makes my stomach flip. I slip my hand out of his and turn back toward the entrance.
