suggested it, saying we could talk without everyone in our face.
Blake went off to dance with one of the fraternity little sisters. Shelley checked with me to make sure I was okay and when I told her I was fine, she and Dax headed out to dance.
We stood with our backs against the fence and watched the party, laughing every now and then at something crazy someone would do in the pool or on the dance floor.
“Do you think we’re the only sober people here?” I asked. I’d noticed he’d been drinking water too.
He shrugged. “My father drinks a lot, and I don’t want to be anything like him.”
I heard the tension in his voice, and because I wanted to ease him, I opened up. “Hmm, no family is perfect. My dad’s in prison—or at least the man my mom tells me is my dad. I’ve never met him, but he’s there for murder.”
His mouth parted, a look of surprise on his face. That I was the spawn of a killer? “Bugger, that must have been tough.”
“He beat a guy to death in an alley outside a bar while he was on probation for selling drugs. He got life.” My gut tightened as I took in his black eye. “My mom says he was a hothead. Maybe it’s a good thing I never knew him. People who use their fists scare me.”
His body tensed at that, but it didn’t stop me from babbling on and on. Maybe it was because he was a stranger, and I figured I’d never see him again. “My mom, on the other hand, wanted to be a Vegas showgirl but then she got pregnant with me. I guess you could say I ruined her life.” I shrugged, pushing those memories away. “So, how did you end up here? Are you an athlete?” My eyes lingered on his broad chest. Again.
He grinned. “No.”
Oh.
“I’m originally from London. My mum was English and my dad’s American—he was the ambassador to England years ago.” He seemed to gather himself, adjusting his stance, his eyes suddenly everywhere except on me. “They divorced when I was a toddler, and when I was ten, Mum died from cancer. Dax and I moved here to Raleigh to live with my dad. I guess you can say we’ve been Americanized in the past few years. At least I got a dual citizenship out of the union.” Hardness grew in his eyes. “He ripped everything away from us and then forgot we existed when he got remarried. I don’t see him often. He doesn’t care.”
I held my water bottle up. “A toast to shitty parents.”
A large blue dragonfly landed on my arm, its stick-like body vibrating. I’m not the kind of girl who screams bloody murder when an insect shows up. The artist in me preferred to study everything in great detail.
“Oh. Look how pretty it is,” I said, but he’d already seen it and had leaned in closer, the smell of him male and potent.
“It tickles,” I giggled after a while, and he shooed the creature away, his gentleness surprising me.
He watched it fly away and then sent me a considering glance. “It’s funny—every time I see a dragonfly, I think it’s my mum’s spirit. She loved them. Crazy-like. She even had this charm bracelet someone had given her, and you’d think she’d have different things on it, but all she bought were dragonfly charms. She had magnets, knickknacks, even paintings.” He rubbed his jawline. “On the day of her funeral, we were at the burial and one landed on Dax and then flew over to me. It hovered around us the entire time and wouldn’t leave. It was strange yet comforting—” He swallowed and then continued. “The day my father showed up at our house to move us here, one followed our car for miles. Weird, right? I—I just always think it’s her looking out for me.”
“That’s beautiful. Is that why you have the tattoo on your neck?”
“Yeah. To always have her with me.”
Him, him, him, my body said. Pick him tonight.
I fidgeted, switching my water from one hand to the other.
“Hey, you okay? Did my story bother you?” His eyes watched me, landing on my lips.
I licked them. “Uh, no, it’s just we seem to have this thing, like a connection, and I was wondering if maybe, you know, if you weren’t busy later, and you know, if you aren’t with anyone else, and if you think it’s cool, and if you’re