Page 12 of Saints & Sailors

Definitely an athlete.

I tore my gaze away from his body and traveled to his face where one unmistakable thing stood out: freckles. Freckles littered his nose and swept across his cheeks. Freckles that seemed as though someone had taken a stencil and sprayed them on perfectly.

My journey continued up where I took in his fade haircut. Short on the sides with natural coils on top.

I stopped my perusing when I noticed I wasn’t the only one caught up staring. He was standing there, almost as though he’d never seen a girl before.

For some reason that bothered me.

I snapped my fingers. “Well?”

Blinking, he soon held up what was in his hand. “Is Scott here? Harry keeps delivering his mail.”

“Scott!” I shouted for him.

The boy continued to stare at me while I practiced the patience not to ask him what his fuckin’ deal was.

On his T-shirt was one of those Hello, My Name is…stickers, and on it he’d written Dreux.

Tilting my head to the side, I scrunched up my face. “Dre?”

Dreux peered down at his sticker before looking back to me. “Dreux. Like Andrew.”

Huh. “That’s a different way to spell it.”

He shrugged. “My dad’s family is Creole, so my mom wanted a French name.”

Scott came into the foyer and lit up at the sight of Dreux, as if he were thankful for the arrival of a third party to cut into our awkward tension.

“Dreux! What’s up?” Scott asked as he greeted the boy.

Dreux peeled his eyes off me and faced my father, holding out the mail. “Harry keeps forgetting about a letter a day.”

Scott chuckled as he fiddled with the envelope. “Yeah, I see that. Stanley and St. Julien, what’s to get wrong?”

Dreux gave a half smile, and once more I was caught up observing him. Facial hair dusted his chin and upper lip, taking him from boy to man effortlessly.

Scott reached out and grasped Dreux’s shoulder. “Saylor, this is our neighbor, Dreux St. Julien. He goes to your school as well. Dreux, this is my daughter, Saylor.”

Dreux’s thick brows perked up and he blinked a couple of times. “Daughter?”

Scott bobbed his head. “She just moved to town.”

Dreux was looking at me again, trying to piece together the resemblance between Scott and me. There wasn’t one. He shook his head, stepped closer, and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I placed my hand in his and immediately took notice of the way his engulfed mine. Firm grip, direct eye contact, and warm touch. I internally shivered and felt uneasy.

I snatched my hand back.

Scott flashed me a smile. “Dreux here is quite the All-American. He’s the star shortstop on the baseball team, am I right?”

Knew it.

“It’s just for fun,” Dreux offered.

I didn’t do jocks.

“Great.” I headed for the staircase without looking back. “Tell me when the pizza gets here.”