“Harrison needs us,” I whispered to Emma.
She followed my gaze to where Pete was crowding Harrison, imparting some deep knowledge only he was privy to. Harrison was basically bent backward, avoiding the close talker.
“Let’s go save our boy.” She stood up and smoothed her outfit. “Who is that guy?” she asked as we made our way across the room.
I shrugged. “Some wanker.”
“And that’s the thing that most people don’t get. The artistic craft of what you do.” Pete slurred his words, his whiskey breath potent from several steps away.
What a piece of work. Two minutes ago, he was looking down his nose at everyone in this room. Harrison scratched at his neck, nodding politely, looking desperate for an out. His eyes widened in relief when he saw us approach.
“Hey, mates,” Harrison said. He moved to slide between Emma and me. At least I wasn’t the only big baby using Emma as a shield. “This is, uh, sorry, what was your name?”
“Pete Klester.” He extended his hand to me.
I grabbed it and gripped it as hard as I could. He hid his wince well enough, but his blurry gaze held mine a moment too long in curious disbelief. He clenched and released his fist at his side.Oops. It felt wrong to shake his hand before Kate’s. I wanted to scrub my hand clean.
“Charles,” I said shortly.
“Emma Flynn,” Emma said. Pete flicked a glance up and down her body without offering to shake her hand.
She must have felt me tense because she casually brushed a calming palm down my arm.
I was just about to make an excuse to pull us away when I felt her arrive.
Kate.
Her mouth was parted softly in surprise to find her boyfriend talking to her three childhood idols. Her eyes widened minutely as she took in Pete with his fresh drink, leaning sloppily against the bar. I studied as she swallowed down her irritation and plastered a sweet smile in place.
My body rioted against an impulse to pull her into a hug.
It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.
Finally, her gaze made its way to me. I was completely unaware of anything else in the world. It was as cliché as a scene in a film, where the world around faded to black and melted into white noise. I was sure, on some level, I was too stiff. I gave too much away.
Eye contact was such a peculiar thing. It wasn’t even something I thought about until a moment like this. The countless random eyes that met mine in my life. Strangers stared at me, wondering if they recognized me. Thousands of people at this point, probably. Fame made eye contact much more confusing. So many people looked at me for one reason only. It was hard to know when it was genuine interest or just the allure of celebrity.
This moment was nothing like any of that. The second Kate’s eyes clashed with mine a zing of awareness shot through my body quickly, followed by the realization that I’d held her gaze just a fraction too long. I hadn’t looked away but neither had she. We were both frozen. My brain screamed to STOP STARING, but my body refused to comply. And in that fraction of a moment, so much was conveyed. My heart jolted with adrenaline. My whole vision narrowed down to a singular point. Her.
Look away. NOW.
An elbow jabbed into my side.
Emma said, “This is Kate Dubois.”
I hadn’t even realized Kate had spoken. I reached for Kate as she extended her hand. Electricity shot through me. I felt everything, everywhere. Her skin was so soft. My entire rough hand encompassed hers as gently as I could. I was touching Kate. I couldn’t look at her. I could only focus on how small and pale her dainty little hand looked in my massive freckled mitt.
My eyes tracked up her arm and shoulders. Soft dark hair against alabaster skin. A freckle or a birthmark just above her wrist. I tucked the new detail away. These were the things that I never knew as her pen pal.
Jealousy flared, thinking of how this drunken fool got to paw at her when he didn’t deserve to even breathe her air.
I tugged my hand back and tucked it into my pocket. I needed to get a grip. I was acting like a barbarian.
“Cheers,” I said.
My voice was too rough. I was looking at her too much. I was giving everything away. I glared at a point on the horizon.
“And this is Charles Downing,” Emma politely joked to cover my faux pas.
