“Hey,” he says with a smile and a genial nod of his chin. His eyes hold mine for a beat longer. A beat that makes me question every fucking thing. It doesn’t help that he does thatthingthat most people do when they’re checking me out.
The up-down, imperceptible motion. A one-two movement with his eyes. Up-down. Two seconds flat. Barely noticeable.
Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
But those two seconds tangle the axons in my brain. Twisting. Pulling. Tying them into a confused knot. So far as I know, he’s straight, but sexuality is a fluid thing. He could be questioning, right?
I just don’t know for sure.
The parking lot is quiet. No one else here.
I return the nod. “You hiding out, Highland?” I ask him casually, despite the fact that nerves ratchet up. I don’t need my Yale degree in Kinesiology to tell me why my heart starts racing or my palms get clammy.
I have a crush on him.
A stupid. Silly. Dumbass crush.
I’mthe one who nearly choked on my food when Maximoff used that word. Back at his sister’s first Rainbow Brigade outing, he asked me about Jack,“You have a crush on him?”
I laughed.
Crush.
I thought crushes were for twelve-year-olds. But I’ve never been this nervous around someone I like. Is there something different about Jack from all the other women and men I’ve dated? Or is it just because I know this could be unrequited?
He’s probably not even attracted to men.
But the way he’s looking at me…
I toss a cracker in my mouth and stand my ground. Not running away from a crush, that’s for sure.
Jack twists off a lens to the Canon camera. “Just need to switch these out,” he says and then a smile inches across his lips. “Why would you think I’m hiding out?”
“It’s a wedding,” I say into a shrug. “Sometimes being single at these events royally sucks. I wouldn’t blame you, if you needed a minute or two alone.”
His eyes hold mine again. He’s got this way of staring at you like heknowsyou. Understands you. And I’m not a fucking idiot. A part of that is just his charm, embedded into his DNA. It’s what makes him so good at his job. As an executive producer ofWe Are Calloway, he’s able to pull out real emotion from the famous ones.
Still looking at me, he wraps the strap of his Canon around his neck and shuts the trunk with a hand. “It’s not so bad,” he tells me. His smile grows. “You’re keeping me company, right?”
He’s flirting.
He’s definitely flirting.
Someone should just pop out behind the bushes with a huge ass sign that saysyes.
“Is that what I’m doing?” I say, playing this cool. I pop another cracker in my mouth.
He leans a hip against the hatchback. “You’re single, too, right?”
The food goes down rough. “Yeah…single.” I glance down at the belt on his waist.Mybelt. When I raise my gaze to his, his eyes flit to the belt he’s wearing, and then back to me, down my toned build.
The air feels warmer.
Skin hotter.
He has a couple inches on my six-two height, but as he leans on the hatchback, we’re about eye-level. Jack nods slowly to me, and our gazes catch again.
I think he’s going to mention the belt.
