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“Seth’s. We met in college.”
He passes me my purse.Finally. However, my run of shitastic luck continues, and I fumble as his hand brushes mine, resulting in me dropping it. Tampons, condoms, and cash scatter across the floor. None of those things catch Owen’s attention. No, it’s my Motley Crue vibe and my small notebook that draw his gaze. The notebook that has a penis drawn on its cover. I mean, blink, and you might not realize it’s a penis because it’s been drawn in an abstract way, but a penis it is.
His lips pull up in a smile as he turns to face me again. “Motley Crue, huh?” He bends to retrieve the notebook. “This looks interesting.”
I snatch it from him as he straightens. Really, the only thing worse that could happen right now would be my mother walking in and finding me with this notebook full of drawings of dicks and sex acts. That I’m standing next to the hottest man on earth, in a toilet cubicle, holding said book, is mortifying. It’s the kind of book a teenager would own, not a twenty-seven-year-old woman. And why the hell are we still smooshed together in this cubicle?
“My bestie gave it to me. And for your information, the Motley Crue vibe was a joke between Poppy and me.” I hold the bullet up. “And also for your information, you’d be surprised what I can do to a man with this.”
Poppy is deader than dead after this fiasco. And Dylan, my bestie, is, too. They will now have to spend the rest of their lives listening to me complain about the night I met the man who could have given me the best orgasms of life, only to watch him walk away laughing because he thinks my vagina has a thing for Motley Crue.
His eyes twinkle. “I bet I would.”
I try to ignore the butterflies that just whooshed through my tummy. Owen is way too close for my comfort. I mean, if we were about to get it on, sure, this would be awesome. But we’re not, so he needs to take a step back because I’m concerned I might throw myself at him if he doesn’t. And that would be all kinds of embarrassing.
It’s his eyes.
I have a thing for eyes.
They’re the bluest of blue. Like, I want to swim in them, they’re so blue. And I want him to come swimming with me. Naked. We should have no clothes on while we do all that swimming together.
“I can’t say I did,” he says.
His deep voice snaps me back to attention, and my heart stutters when I realize my hand is clutching his shirt. I blink and quickly remove my hand. “What?”
What, exactly!
What was I thinking when I touched him? And how did I not even know I was doing that? This man has some kind of voodoo magic power over me. And I just met him. I’m losing my damn mind.
“You asked me if I realized my eyes looked like the ocean at Shipwreck Beach. And then you said something about going swimming with me there. Where is it?”
“Holy mother of… shit…. No, just ignore me.” Words fall out of my mouth at a horrifying pace. I’m helpless to control them.
He chuckles, and the lines around his eyes etch themselves deeper into his skin. I could stare at those lines for hours. I’m always fascinated by the lives people live, and to me, the lines on someone’s face tell a story.
“Are you always this intriguing?”
I still.
No one has ever called me intriguing before. Quirky on numerous occasions. But never intriguing. My body fills with a warmth that almost takes away all my mortification over everything that has transpired tonight.
Smiling up at him, I give him my truth—something I don’t usually give this easily. Owen has managed to catch me off guard and since we’ll never see each other again, I feel safe doing this. “That’s not a word used when referring to me. People are more likely to call me quirky or weird. I’m going to take intriguing as a compliment.”
He smiles big again and good Lord above, it’s a movie-star smile if ever I saw one. Nodding, he murmurs, “Yes, intriguing is a compliment.” His gaze roams my face as he speaks. It’s like he’s trying to get a read on me, in much the same way I’m trying to get one on him.
“Shipwreck Beach is also called Navagio Beach. It’s in Greece. You should go there sometime. The water is so blue. It’s one of my favorite places in the world.”
“I’ll check it out.”
We fall into silence, each watching the other. I don’t know about him, but I could stay like this for a long time. Even with my ass hanging out the back of my dress. He’s managed to calm me in a way not many people do.
However, Poppy has other ideas. Or, should we say, otherneedsthat prove far more important than us gazing at each other.
“Charlize! Where are you, girl? I neeeeed you!”
The sound of her heels clicking on the tiles fills the bathroom, coming closer to the cubicle at the end where Owen and I are. Always the last cubicle—I never choose any other than that one. Even if I have to wait in line longer for it to become free. There’s just something safe about the last cubicle.
Poppy comes to a stop in front of us, holding the tulle ballgown skirt of her wedding dress up. “Oh, good, there you are.” She pauses. “Ummm, why are you standing in a toilet cubicle with Owen?”
