Second Dive (Kings of the Water #3) - Jasmin Miller Page 0,8

the fuck?

My chest feels so tight, I have the urge to rub it so the intense pressure on my ribs eases.

How is this . . . What is happening? No . . . This is . . . this is impossible.

The woman smooths her long waves back, breaking the blazing eye contact between us and therefore, allowing me to fully take her in. And I take in every single fragment of her like a starving man.

Her bronze skin, which is peppered with a slight array of freckles. Her full lips. Her beauty mark under her almond-shaped eyes that are still as unique as before, the inner green rings competing with the beautiful gray-blue irises. Her heterochromia that I always found fascinating. And her nose with its . . . nose ring?

The jewelry throws me off so much that I look straight into her eyes again.

Big mistake.

She tilts her head to the side, her lips pulling up a fraction at the corners. “Hi, Noah.”

The connection is intense. Too intense.

There’s so much I want to say, so many things I’ve wanted to say for so long, but it’s like something’s squeezing my throat in a way that no word could ever make it past that constriction.

This time, I break eye contact with her and lean back in my chair, rubbing my hands over my face like I’m trying to get rid of a layer of skin. Or maybe the memory of her. Fuck. Maybe I’m imagining this whole thing? I take a deep breath, and our waitress chooses that moment to stop by to take our drink order and leave us with the menus.

The words all blur on the page, and I know neither one of us is paying attention to the listed food. I’m not the only one who keeps stealing glances at the other.

By the time the waitress comes back with our drinks and we give her our order—I have no idea what either one of us ordered, I just pointed my finger somewhere—my body has almost fully rebooted.

Shock and disbelief shift into something else that I’m not sure either one of us is ready for. Not to mention, it’s probably not the place for whatever strong emotions are torpedoing their way through my system anyway.

“What are you doing here, Chloe?” My voice sounds strange to my own ears. Maybe that’s due to the fact that my throat is finally less constricted but instead feels like I just forced a serving of nails down.

And saying her name out loud after so long makes my stomach clench.

She swallows a couple times before she picks up her water and drains half of it. It’s impossible to miss her shaky hand that she puts back under the table the second the glass is safely on the tablecloth. “I wanted to talk.”

Something inside me snaps, and heat rushes through my body like it’s trying to burn me up from the inside. I’d like to say I’m the bigger person here but I’m not. I shake my head and snort. “Now you want to talk?”

She nods and bites her lip. Why does she have to bite her damn lip and draw my attention to it?

“After ten fucking years?” I lean across the table as far as I can without pushing things over with my chest. The distance between us shrinks, and my next inhale is filled with her scent. It’s fresh and sweet, and so her. Which makes me even angrier. “Is this all a joke? Did you come to the masquerade ball so you could set all of this up?”

“No, of course not. I had no idea you’d be there. I didn’t even know about the auction. I swear.”

Now she’s the one leaning in, and I don’t know if she expects me to lean back at her approach or what, but I’m immobilized. I’m not sure I could move even if I wanted to.

What kind of spell is she putting on me?

This can’t be happening, not again.

Never again.

I need to move. I have to move for my own sake and put this whole charade to a stop.

The look she gives me couldn’t be more opposite of me. It’s gentle and soft, maybe even pleading, contrary to me sporting the scowl of the year and grinding my teeth. My jaw is so tight, I’m afraid I might crack a tooth.

She swallows. “This isn’t easy for me either, but can you please give me a chance?”

I scoff at her comment, the spell finally broken by her