“Yikes?” Piper repeats, but I can already tell by the look in her eyes it’s not for the same reasons as me. No, in fact, it’s for an entirely different though also endearing reason.
Lucy and I exchange a knowing, amused look, pulling on our indulgent smiles just as Piper launches into her spiel about the etymology of the word. It’s something she’s done for as long as we’ve known her, and we’ve learned to let her do her thing.
“Did you know that the word ‘yikes’ is believed to have derived from ‘yoicks,’ which was a common hunting call in the mid-to-late seventeen hundreds used to urge hounds after a fox? Some people argue that’s incorrect, that it actually derives from ‘yipes,’ which was believed to in turn have derived from the yipping sound dogs make, thereby signifying excitement or triumph. While I do think there’s some sense to that explanation, I’ve found more sources to support the ‘yoicks’ theory …”
Oh boy, this is going to be a long one, I think, again looking to Lucy in tolerant commiseration. But Lucy’s clearly already tuned her out, her eyes going to something over my shoulder. Someone.
I know what she’s about to say because I can feel it. This entire evening I’ve felt his eyes on me, and it’s taken all of my willpower to resist looking back.
Piper trails off, picking up on Lucy’s distracted glances towards the bar. “Ooohhh,” she breathes.
“He’s practically burning a hole in the back of your head,” Lucy murmurs.
I refuse to follow her gaze. Iwon’t.But … then I do. I chance a look over my shoulder to find him staring intently, assessing me with those stunning silver-grey eyes.
My body tenses as his lips curve up into a slow, seductive smirk, and I suck in a sharp breath. He rubs a hand along his scruffy jaw, then he licks those lips.
“Holy shit,” Lucy breathes. “That made me a little wet.”
Piper giggles awkwardly.
Somehow—somehow—I manage to find the strength to tear my eyes away, whipping my head back around to once again face my friends. My face is flaming.
Friendly, not flirty,I remind myself. Don’t encourage him.
“The dude’s seriously pining, Steph, are you sure it’s just ‘friendly’?” Lucy asks once more, the skepticism strong in her voice.
“It is on my end,”I say firmly.
It has to be.
18
Riley
“Whatareyoudoinghere?” Steph’s voice is measured, but the pleased glint in her eyes belies her tone. It’s the first time she’s asked me that question where I haven’t actually felt unwelcome. She’s trying to hide it, but I can tell she’s happy to see me.
I shrug. After seeing her at the bar last week and the arguably flirty way she behaved with me, I couldn’t resist stopping by the library today—you know, to push my luck.
“Is it too forward of me to say I wantedto see you?”
She glances away, that gorgeous flush rising to her cheeks. Choosing to ignore my comment, she says, “I can’t talk right now.”
A shrug. “I know.”
“I’m at work,” she adds unnecessarily, for we’re standing in the entry of the library.
“I know,” I repeat.
“Then … what do you want?”
“I thought I’d wait for you to get off. Maybe we could grab a bite to eat?”
Her face blanches.
Crap. Too much, Riley, you’re pushing too much too fast.
It’s hard to be patient when she’s all I can think about, though. A week is long enough; I needed to lay eyes on her again.
