Page 76 of Collide
“Yup,” I say, too high. Too quick.
God, get it together.
I drop my gaze to my sneakers like they hold all the secrets of the universe.
“I’m Broderick, by the way.” His voice is as smooth as his jawline. Of course that’s his name—tough, manly, sounds like it chops wood and breaks hearts.
I nod like my brain isn’t short-circuiting.
“El—um.” I clear my throat. “Elena.”
His smile widens, and now it’s smug.
The way he looks at me should be illegal—and he knows it.
“Elena,” he repeats, trying it on like a tailored suit. “Pretty name.”
Butterflies dance in my stomach, or maybe that’s just because I’m hungover. I’m going with the latter.
My heart thumps in my chest, and I swallow, trying to ignore it.
It’s not just his face, it’s the confidence. The calm way he takes up space like he’s never had to fight for a room to notice him.
I force a breath, trying not to let it hitch.
Who is this guy?I need—no,want—to know more.
“So,” I utter, desperate to reassert some kind of control, “do you…live in the building, or enjoy loitering in lobbies and touching strangers’ hands?”
He chuckles, slow and low, shaking his head, eyes fixing right on mine. “No,Elena. I don’t live in the building.”
The way he says my name—like it’s a secret. My heart skips a beat.
And just like that, I’m fucked.
He tilts his head, studying me like he’s trying to place something.
“You must be Phil’s little sister?”
Oh.He knows Philippa?
“Yes,” I drawl, wary now.
“You look like her. Kind of. Except those eyes…” He pauses, just long enough. “They’re enchanting.”
Normally, I hate when people say that. My eyes are not a personality. But whenhesays it, I practically melt.
No. Focus.
I raise my brow. “How do you know Pip?”
“Through Andrew.” He shrugs.
And there it is.
Ugh.Fantasy ruined.
He must be one ofthem. A trust-fund bro wrapped in pure sex appeal. Andrew Sinclair’s friend, all legacy and old money. Ivy-educated, trust-enshrined.
