I trudge on, wrapping my arms tightly across my midriff, ignoring the way my body buzzes in his presence, or the fact I’ve completely lost count of my steps.
He throws his arm over my shoulder, the sudden weight enough to make me stagger. “Not in a talkative mood, hm?”
“Aren’t you worried your girlfriend will see you?”
“What girlfriend?” He withdraws his arm.
“Chelsea.” My nose wrinkles into a scowl. “I saw your new post last night.”
“Yeah, you did.”
He shoulder-bumps me, and I clench my hands, stifling a reaction.
“But you’ve got the wrong end of the stick there.” Damien’s face is suddenly inches from mine, and I gasp, flinching. “How blind are you?”
Aftershave spirals into my nostrils and my head goes light, giddy. Too close, too much. “Legally blind.”
“Why aren’t you using a cane then?”
And draw more attention?“Because I can get by without it, except at night. I can see, it’s just I’m photophobic so everything’s too bright and my eyes can’t really focus. Everything’s a blur unless it’s right here.” Palm two inches from my nose.
His fingers are gentle as he moves my hand aside and positions himself there instead. Broad cheekbones and wide-set blue eyes fill my vision, cold and wild at the same time.
Then Damien whips off my glasses and steps away, peering at them under the central fluorescent, nothing but a fuzzy shadow.
“Give those back.”
“Calm your jets. I’m just looking at the brand.” He withdraws his phone, tapping the electronic keys one-handed. “Let’s see. Findlayson compared to Rothschild.”
The ground shifts underneath me. The first name is my current optometrist. The second is from the quote I sent him.
“About a tenth of the cost.” He clicks his tongue. “I’m shocked, Ophelia. That’s fraud.”
“And yesterday was blackmail. Sue me.” I judge where his hands are and dart forward, grabbing for my glasses, but he lifts them high above my head.
“You’re albino, right?”
“What gave it away?” I deadpan, a strange flutter in my chest when he laughs.
“You’re not going to correct me? ‘Person with albinism’ and all that.”
“I’m trying to end this conversation, not extend it.”
His laugh is louder this time, then he’s back in view, settling my glasses in place with gentle hands, his mop of dark curls mingling with my straight white strands. Staying there until it’s almost indecent. Near enough he must hear the heavy thudding of my heart.
“It’s not a no yet, but I’ll need to check a few details before I confirm one way or the other.”
Damien’s scent is all around and over me now, like he’s marking me. Even when he retreats, I smell of his cologne and… something more, something darker. Maybe his natural scent.
Another thought that makes me giddy, even when I shove it aside, concentrating on what he said.
Not a no.
That’s practically a yes.
“Van der Valk says I have to ‘write a piece of music to pass the practical.’” His voice is a near-perfect mimicry. “How about you do that for me for a start, and we’ll sort the rest later?”
Iwould, but I’m struggling with my own composition, it hasn’t come together at all. There’s just no way.
