Page 13 of Beyond the Lines
She’s wearing a black dress that hugs curves that would make a saint sin, and she’s beautiful in a way that makes myfingers itch for a pencil—all elegant lines and graceful angles, with dark curls framing the kind of face that belongs in a portrait.
But it’s not just her body that draws my attention—it’s the way she carries herself, like she’s ready to defend herself in battle. Her arms are wrapped around herself—whether from cold or discomfort, I can’t tell—and there’s tension in every line of her body.
There’s something vulnerable about her expression that makes me want to… I don’t know. Help? Protect? Both seem condescending, especially since she looks perfectly capable of handling herself. But she also looks like this night has failed to live up to expectations.
I know that feeling.
She stalks across the yard in wedge sandals, her gaze fixed on the ground like it’s personally offended her. She continues her determined march until she pauses next to the pool of Jell-O a few feet in front of my stump, then looks at it in wide-eyed amazement.
Then she lets out a huff of exasperation that is as cute as hell.
I should leave her alone. She clearly came out here to get away from people, same as me, and a stranger calling out to her is more likely to scare her than anything. But there’s something about the way she’s glaring at nothing that makes me want to get to know her.
“Hey,” I say, before I can talk myself out of it.
She whirls around.
For a moment, I think she might actually bite my head off.
But then her eyes meet mine, and…oh.
three
LEA
“Hey.”
I tense up as a guy nearby calls out to me. My first instinct is to tell whoever it is to get lost—I’m not in the mood for some frat bro’s drunken attempts at flirting, given I already barely avoided being spewed on by the human wall. But something in the tone makes me turn around.
And…oh.
He’s perched on a tree stump, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out in front of him. The party lights from inside catch the sharp angles of his face, casting half of it in warm gold, the other in shadow. Dark hair falls across his forehead in artful disarray.
My heart does a complicated little flip-flop in my chest, and I find myself looking him up and down.
He’s gorgeous. Muscles for days, and he’s tall. Best of all, I’m not getting the asshole vibes that many guys throw off, and the fact he’s sitting out here rather than chugging the trash can cocktail or fucking some drunk freshman gives him at least some chance of not being a jerk.
As I size him up, he watches me, and his lips curve into a slight smile. And wow. It’s not just that he’s hot—which he totally is—but it’sthatsmile. A shy, subtle one thatdoesn’tscream: “I’m going to hit on you because you’re a freshman girl by yourself at a frat party.”
Stop it, Lea. You’re done with guys,my mind shouts at me.Embargo, remember?
But even as I think it, and force away thoughts of Chris and heartbreak, I know I’m in trouble. Because this guy is my type—the kind that makes me want to grab my sketchbook and go crazy—and the way his eyes are locked onto me suggests the feeling might be mutual.
“Are you OK?” he asks, his voice rough, like he’s been yelling over the music inside.
I tense a little at the presumptiveness of the question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You looked pretty pissed when you came out here.” His smile widens slightly. “Like you were about to declare war on that pool of Jell-O… or dive in…”
The tension immediately dissipates, and I laugh. “Inthisdress?”
He takes the mention of my outfit as an invitation to size me up again, but it doesn’t feel invasive or creepy. “You could go knee-deep and not stain a thing…”
“I’ll pass.” I glance at the toxic-looking pool full of green gelatin. “If the booze inside is any indication, what’s in that pool will melt my shoes…”
Laughing, he shifts on his stump, making room. “It looks like those shoes are torturing you, so do you want to sit?”
He’s not wrong. I perch carefully on the edge of the stump, letting out a small sigh of relief. “These were definitelynotmade for walking.”
