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Not wanting to get caught essentially assaulting him with my eyes, I looked around the shuttle bus, counting how many people were on board and taking in their appearances.
Had I not become enamored with the guy beside me, I would have already done this.
There once was a time I would go to the park just so I could people watch. I liked trying to guess someone’s story, keeping in mind that most appearances were misleading. Everyone had a tale, from the grocery store cashier to the person who delivered the mail.
No one person walked through life the same as another.
There could be similarities and situations we related to, but in the end, we were all individual souls.
The thought had me appraising the gorgeous stranger once more. I was curious about him, more so than I should’ve been considering once we got to the airport, I’d never see him again.
He suddenly glanced away from the screen of his phone.
I pretended I was looking through the window, which probably made me twice as obvious. It was hard to play off you’d been staring at someone once you made eye contact. He didn’t call me out on it, thank god, but the hint of a smile had his supple lips curving upward.
“Are you guys from the area?” he asked, pocketing his cell.
“Not remotely close.”
“Where are you from?” Mel asked him.
“Not here.” His tone was casual but dismissive.
He didn’t take his eyes off me to answer. Caught up in a tidal wave of blue, his stare seemed to grow that much more intense the longer I looked.
Piercing.
That was a good way to describe it.
He wasn’t staring at me, but into me, as if the armored shell I’d encased myself in was transparent.
Something about him was oddly familiar. I couldn’t pinpoint what, though. I was one thousand percent sure I didn’t know this guy. He came off as someone who would be hard to forget, no matter the circumstances.
“I’m Ciaran,” he introduced himself, as if he’d just plucked the thought of me not knowing him from my head.
“Maverick.” The guy beside him leaned forward with a smile, offering a small wave after he palmed a few loose strands of hair. His dark eyes lingered on Melantha for a full two seconds before he leaned back.
“The two assholes behind us are Charon and Kyrous,” Ciaran continued.
His introduction invoked their laughter, but neither of them looked away from what they were staring at. With him disclosing all their names, it seemed only natural to share ours in return.
I pointed to each of the girls. “Gracelyn. Melantha.” Then I motioned to myself. “Liliana, but everyone calls me Lana for short.”
“I knew a Liliana once,” Ciaran mused. “You’re much prettier than she was.”
“Wow. That was kinda smooth,” Gracelyn jested with a laugh.
“You should hear when I’m actually trying,” he countered, tacking on a playful smile.
I was semi-confused. Was that meant to be a compliment? I mean, I thought I was okay looking—cute, even.
My mother’s Hispanic roots had evenly meshed with my father’s Italian genes. My hair was black as coal, long with soft waves. Eyes were almond brown. Skin naturally bronze, much to Melantha’s dismay since her porcelain pigmentation refused to darken.
I stood barely over five feet tall, and while my stomach was mostly flat, I’d inherited my mama’s hips with an ass that jiggled to match. I didn’t have self-esteem issues or anything, but I was acutely aware of how I looked in that very moment.
Yesterday I’d been glammed up and ready to take on the world.
Now? I didn’t have on a stitch of make-up aside from some lip gloss. My red-bottomed heels, along with a hoochiefied bodycon dress, had been swapped for skinny fit sweats, a crop-top, and some retro Js. The only thing going for me was that I’d taken a quick hoe-bath and brushed my hair right before zombie-walking onto this shuttle.
“Were you three staying at the Royal Palms?” one of the guys behind Ciaran asked.
“No. We snuck on here to hitch a free ride to the airport because we blew all our money on coke and dick,” Melantha deadpanned.
Her tone was so casual, it would be easy to miss that she was being a smartass.
Grace sighed and shook her head, hiding a smile in the palm of her hand. We couldn’t even be embarrassed; this was simply Mel being Mel. We’d had plenty of time to get used to it.
I looked between the two guys, trying to determine who was who. I remembered their names, seeing as Ciaran had just introduced them, but I hadn’t realized they were twins. There were subtle differences between them. One had amber eyes, while the other’s were nearly the same shade as whiskey. Their hair was styled a tad bit differently too.
Unfortunately, none of that helped me determine who was Charon and which one was Kyrous. The twin closest to the window looked as if he were about to say something just as sarcastic in response, but the shuttle suddenly swerved without warning.
