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And again, with one last scowl, Danny does just that.
I make myself comfortable on an empty wooden desk, swinging my legs back and forth. The sight seems to captivate Finlay for a moment, and he leans against the blackboard with his arms crossed, just watching me.
“What?” I stare at him. “Did you prefer me with long hair, too?” My tone is mocking but Finlay’s lips don’t twitch.
“Ye look good, sassenach.” My legs stop swinging. There’s something about Finlay’s voice that’s rough and soft at the same time. I don’t understand how he does it, but all I know is that warmth slides into my belly and radiates throughout my body.
In my dislike of the chiefs, I’d almost forgotten howgoodthey look themselves. With Finlay standing right in front of me, his gaze focused solely on me, I’m not sure he’s ever looked more handsome. And the kilt… It’s a revelation. He wears it with pride, and no wonder when its tartan existence elevates him into one of the hottest guys in school.
I lean back on my hands and try to sound serious. “What do you want, Finlay?”
From every indication on his face, the answer to that question isme.
I swallow.
It’s knowledge — knowledge I can use. I’d suspected it before, but it’s never been written across Finlay’s face as plainly as this.
He steps forward, and forward again. He walks slowly in his black Docs like he’s walking a thin line.
And then suddenly we’re face to face.
