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“Parents divorced?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” I eye him warily.
“Only way to get to know a person.” He shrugs.
I think over that for a long moment before answering his initial question.
“My parents were never married. I never met my father; he left when I was a baby.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not. Clearly he wasn’t a very good guy to begin with.” I shrug, twirling my straw around in my glass. “Anyway, he’s my sister’s father, too. Hence why we didn’t grow up together.”
I’m not sure why I’m divulging all this to him, but I can’t seem to stop the words from pouring out of me.
“Did you grow up around here?” he continues his inquisition and I’m thankful not to have to linger on the conversation of the father I never knew.
“South Carolina.”
“You’re a far ways from home.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
“Did you come to Chicago for any reason specifically?”
“It’s not South Carolina,” I quip.
“Fair enough.” He chuckles, the sound deep and sexy. Exactly as I had pictured it would be. “I guess that’s as good of a reason as any.” He smiles, tilting his head as he stares back at me.
“Anyway, my sister lives here. Which I guess is the real reason I decided to movehere.”
“Do you still have family in South Carolina?” he asks.
“None that I claim.”
“You always so talkative?” His eyes give away his humor.
“Are you?” I fire back.
He falls silent next to me, watching me so intently it’s like he can see right through me. If he doesn’t stop I might explode under his gaze.
“What are you doing tonight?” His question has my heart lodging somewhere in my throat.
I wish I could say that there is no way in a million years I would go anywhere with a complete stranger, but the truth is, it’s all I’ve thought about since the moment he sat down next to me.
“You tell me?” I shrug, not even sure where the hell that came from. His smile spreads and it’s all I can do not to let out an audible moan at the sight.
Oh my god, could this man get any sexier?
“Well, I can think of a lot of things, but maybe we could start with a drink?”
“Considering I’m not old enough to drink, that may cause a problem.” I watch his brows draw up.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen. How old are you?” I lean back in my stool, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“Twenty-five,” he answers quickly.
