Page 30 of King of Clubs

I turned back to the game, the full crowd on the edge of their seats as the teams battled in the last few minutes of the half and I’d never been so grateful for something to watch. Although, the need to lighten the mood was strong and I nudged his shoulder with my own.

“So you hoped you’d see me here, huh?” The siren sounded indicating the break and Arna spoke before he could reply.

“I need to use the bathroom, anyone else?”

“I do too, actually,” Evangeline stood as I shook my head indicating I would remain.

“I’m good,” he answered and I realised we were about to be alone with no game to pretend to watch.

Shit.

We moved to the snack bench and I slowly appraised the offers as if I didn’t already know I was going to take the crisps.

Disappointingly, he never responded to my sarcastic comment and I was desperately searching for what I could say to fill the silence. My thoughts seemed to enter a different frequency when he was close as if my uncalled-for desire wiped any sense of clarity from my mind.

“How have you been?” I was hoping for light and self-assuredness but the question came across as forced. My words strained and gauche.

Why did I become so tongue tied around him?

Contrastingly, he looked completely unaffected as though he could command the entire crowd with a flick of his wrist. Suave bastard.

I blamed the cap and the grey shirt. No one should look that good in something so simple and I was just a little happy that I had met him now and not when I'd been with Lucas. Ogling without fear or guilt was a nice feeling. A new feeling.

“Same old. Busy with work. I don’t usually get to the games because they often play on nights when I can’t get away from the club, but tonight with Eva here I was able to manage it. And yes, I did hope to see you.” I noticed the way his tongue darted out to quickly lick his lower lip. The statement seamlessly slipped through as if it didn’t take an entire hour of mindfulness to admit something like that.

Damn. He really was something else.

I sucked in a quick breath, frantically trying to form the perfect response.

“Most people do, honestly,” my lips thinned. If this was an episode ofBlind Date, the camera was zooming in and the voice over was scathing.

Most people do.

Christ on a cracker, someone save me from myself.

But surprisingly before I could overthink everything, he threw his head back and his husky mirth bounced around the empty space as I took a step back to steady myself against the wall. When he brought his gaze back to meet my own, the creases around his eyes made me feel warm.

I was an absolute mess and I was going to give myself a concussion if I kept vacillating between pride and mortification.

An easy diagnosis for any medical practitioner -Stream of Consciousness Rambling– an immediate prescription ofVerbal Flow Blockersrequired.

Hoping to gain a breath that didn’t contain his fresh, clean scent, I turned my face back to the empty field, the crowd still standing engrossed in conversations of their own which did not appear anywhere near as clumsy as the one in here.

“What's your story?” He asked, the mirth still evident in his eyes. His fingers grazed my chin and turned my face gently until I looked back at him. His pupils were dilated and he was breathing heavier than he had been before.

I didn’t understand this guy. One second he was rejecting my very obvious attempt at a kiss and the next he was randomly here, which if his sister was to be believed, wasn’t actually random at all, and openly flirting with me. It was enough to give me a headache.

“I don't really know how to answer that,” I admitted, wanting desperately to tell him that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him either. That his presence did things to me that felt illegal. That I dreamt of kissing him and running my hands down his bare back after I saw him doing pull ups. I wanted him to kiss me and show me that there was a different kind of love to what I knew. But after the humiliation of before, I was going to need a fluorescent sign marking his interest before I confessed to that. His smell had become something I unknowingly craved though and I was torn between needing space to think and needing more.

“Have dinner with me?” His request shocked me enough that I just stared – like a mouth-breather who needs reminding to close the hatch – stared.

He wanted to have dinner with me?Dinner was the very last thing I wanted to do with him although it could come after we got through the lengthy list. Another thought I was going to keep locked in the cage of my mind.

I wanted so desperately to say yes. I wanted to have dinner with him, spend more time with him alone and explore what it would be like to be with another man, but I wasn’t sure I could.

These feelings were so new for me.

Was I ready?

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