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“Your palms are hurt and you’re saying it’s nothing?” he snaps.
“I bruised them climbing down the tree outside my room.”
He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else, I shake my head. “I promise, I’m fine.”
He holds my gaze for a few seconds more. He doesn’t seem very convinced.
“If you need any help—”
“I’m good. Really.”
His eyebrows draw down. “You sure about that?”
No.
No.
I jerk my chin.
He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing those thick dark locks further. His eyelashes are full, his cheekbones so high it’s a wonder they don’t cut through the skin, and his mouth... Oh, god, his mouth. I hadn’t noticed that pouty lower lip, the thin upper one, the overall shape so gorgeous. Combined with his broad shoulders, the pecs outlined by his shirt, the way his biceps strain the sleeves, and those veins that pop against his forearms… "You’re gorgeous," I burst out, then wince. I didn’t just say that.I said that.
A slow smirk curls his lips, and goosebumps shower across my skin. Liquid heat pools in my lower belly, and I glance away.
"Thank you," he murmurs in a low, deep voice that twists my insides further.
I peer up at him from under my eyelashes and say, "You’re not from here."
"But you are."
I bite down on my lower lip, and his gaze grows heavy. That heat in my lower belly intensifies. It spreads to my extremities. My arms and legs tremble.Oh, my god, why do I feel like I’ve been thrust into a sauna, then dumped into a vat of cold water?
"I’m going to be a singer someday," I announce, then slap my hand to my forehead. "Forget I said that. I’m not sure why I’m babbling like this."
"A singer, huh?"
I lower my hand and scan his features. He’s not laughing at my crazy pronouncement. Not like my family has every time I’ve stated it to them. Aside from my sister Olivia, who always encourages me to dream big, the rest of my extended family always looked askance when I talk about my dreams.
"I heard you earlier on the beach," he says slowly.
Heat flushes my cheeks. "You heard me?"
He nods, "You’re good. Better than good. You have a certain innocence, yet a depth to your voice that’s compelling."
I angle my head in his direction and ask, "You think I can sing?"
His smile widens. "I think if you pursued it, you could be famous."
Warmth pools in my chest. No one has ever told me that. No one has ever appreciated my talent. I’ve known it deep inside, of course, but to have someone else confirm it to me means so much.
"Are you a singer, too?"
He barks out a laugh. "Only in the shower, and badly, at that. No, I’m in the most narcissistic of all professions. I’m an actor."
"Ah." That explains his looks and that ripped build of his. I may only be a teenager, and a sheltered one at that, but even I’ve seen enough movies on TV to know that the man standing in front of me has the kind of looks and personality that would stand out on screen. "Have I seen you in anything?"
He smirks and replies, "Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time before you do."
"You’re confident of yourself," I scoff. He has reason to be, but still, isn’t it difficult to be successful as an actor? Though if anyone can make it, it’d be this gorgeous guy.
