I melted on the spot. Who could withstand him? More importantly, who would want to?
“You’re Tessa McCaide, right? Staying at the yellow house?”
I stared down at my feet, unable to keep eye contact for one more second. And crap. Why did my beat-up-to-hell Nine Inch Nails t-shirt have to be the one on top? The one with the silver dollar sized hole just to the left of my belly button.
Perfect. On the day I looked like a homeless weirdo the hottest guy ever wanted to talk to me. The one guy who made me feel things I couldn’t even begin to describe. It was more than attraction, though that was there in spades. I was drawn to him.
“I’m Dastien Laurent.” An accent peeked through as he spoke and held out a hand.
I couldn’t turn it down.
“Do you always wear gloves?”
“Usually.” My face burned. “I’m not supposed to be talking to St. Ailbe’s kids.”
He laughed, golden eyes glittering. “I’m not exactly a St. Ailbe’s kid anymore. I graduated already.” He leaned in closer to me, and his warm breath tickled my cheek. “I’m okay. Promise,” he said with a low voice. He hadn’t let go of my hand, and I didn’t want him to.
“Nine Inch Nails, huh?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You look too sweet to like Trent.”
I dropped mouth open. No one had ever accused me of being sweet.
He narrowed his eyes. “What’s your favorite song?”
Now that was a serious question. Did I go old school or new? I loved most everything. Song titles quickly ran through my mind. ‘Survivalism.’ No. ‘God Given.’ No. Maybe I should say ‘Ringfinger.’ Yes. That was it. “I’m going with ‘Closer.’”
My face was intently hot as he laughed. Holy Freudian slip, Batman. Leave it to me to tell the hottest guy ever that one of my favorite song’s chorus was a guy yelling about how he wants to fu—“do” them like an animal.
I covered my face with my hands. “I meant ‘Terrible Lie.’ I swear. Seriously. Forget the other song I mentioned.”
He was still laughing. “Don’t think that’s going to happen, but I won’t mention it. Both choices were solid. Pretty Hate Machine is a classic album, so your second choice was pretty good.” He leaned in again. “But I liked your first choice better.”
Oh. My. God. Was he flirting with me over my favorite band ever?
This was it. We had the same musical taste. He was clearly meant for me. I wouldn’t fight destiny when it brought something like this to me.
He stepped into my personal space, and I didn’t step away. “You know—”
Another guy appeared in the aisle saying something in a language I couldn’t understand. His chartreuse eyes stood out against his fair skin.
I took a step away from Dastien, but he shook his head at me. Why, I had no idea. I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through his head when I couldn’t form a coherent thought.
Dastien and his friend spoke rapidly in what might have been French. They were wearing identical outfits—black jeans and black t-shirts. It was weird, but neutral enough that it could’ve been a coincidence.
Dastien’s friend nodded at me and then walked away.
I didn’t have time to wonder what their exchange was all about. Dastien kissed the back of my hand, and my brain turned to mush.
Wait. He was going to leave?
My pulse echoed in my ears.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said as he let my hand go.
“Sure,” I said but his back was already to me as he walked away. He looked over his shoulder at me and winked.