Page 26 of Under Southern Stars
Like I’m just Sophia.
And that’s terrifying.
And perfect.
And real.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JACK
That was bloodyamazing.
I sit in my car outside Giuseppe’s for a full ten minutes after Sophia has driven away, grinning like an absolute fool. My face actually hurts from smiling, but I can’t seem to stop. The ghost of her hair between my fingers lingers, that soft strand I’d tucked behind her ear instead of kissing her like every instinct had screamed at me to do.
God, the restraint that had taken. She’d looked up at me with those incredible blue eyes, lips slightly parted, and I’d wanted nothing more than to close that last inch of distance between us. But something had held me back—maybe the newness of it all, maybe the knowledge that when I finally kiss Sophia Mitchell, I want it to be perfect.
The way she’d shivered in the night air, how natural it had felt to drape my jacket around her shoulders. She’d practically melted into the warmth, and the sight of her wrapped in something of mine had done dangerous things to my composure. And then she’d driven away still wearing it, taking a piece of me with her.
“This was…”
“Yeah. It was.”
Christ, if that wasn’t the understatement of the century.
My phone buzzes. Emma, of course.
Emma: How'd it go, Romeo? Did you cock it up?
I type back:
Jack: Definitely didn't cock it up. She's...bloody hell, Em. She's incredible.
Emma: That good, eh? When's the next one?
