Page 21 of Waiting Forever
“You are so pretty,” I murmur, not meaning to speak the thought out loud. He’s going to think I’m creepy and rescind his offer for me to sit next to him.
Instead, he smiles. “Thanks. I’m Azure.” He lifts his hand.
“Azure? That’s a color, right?” I shake his hand and claim the stool, setting my tea on the counter.
“Blue.” He points to his eyes. “My mom said the moment I opened my eyes to take in the world, the color was so striking she had to name me Blue. Luckily, my aunt was there and insisted on something less obvious. Hence, Azure.” He raises his hand and lets it drop to his thigh.
I give him a wide smile, instantly liking him—in a friendly way, of course. “Well, I like it. It fits you.”
“Thanks.” He grins and sips his coffee, steam wafting from the open cup.
“I’m Kensington, by the way, named after Kensington, London, where my parents met.”
“Really?” He leans one elbow on the counter and rests his head in his palm, his focus on me. “Another significantly named child. What are the odds?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug and consider his question. “Never? Not in my lifetime, anyway.”
“Me neither.”
“I was almost Victorian, for the style of upscale homes in the area. I’m glad they went with Kensington or else my nickname might have been Vicky.”
“Or Torian,” he teases.
I giggle. “Oh, geez. I hadn’t even considered that. Although I would have liked Torian better than Vicky.”
“Kensington is still a mouthful,” he says, his demeanor and tone so chill he’s either tired or the most relaxed person I’ve ever met.
“It is, which is why my friends and family call me Kensi.”
“I like Kensi.” He lifts his coffee. “To unique names and unique hair colors.” He glances up toward his hairline.
Another odd but nice coincidence. I touch my cup to his and take a sip. Look at me. I haven’t even been here a full day and already I’m making friends. “So, Azure,” I sound out his name, “you wouldn’t happen to be a student at Ryland?”
He sits upright. “I am. Third year. You?”
“I’m new. Well, I will be. I’m a junior, too.”
His dark brows lower. “You do know the semester started already?”
“Yep. I’m a late transfer. I’ll have to catch up, but I’m okay with that. I don’t really know anyone so it’s not like I have lots of plans or friends to distract me.”
“You know me now.” He winks.
Worry worms down my spine. It didn’t used to, but after what happened, my suspicion level rises over silly things, and I feel obligated to clear the air. “I’m, uh, not hitting on you.”
“Likewise.” He gives me a knowing grin. “You’re not my type.”
“Oh.” I frown, a little put off by the way he blurted his uninterest in me.Give a girl a chance.Notme, but easy with the quick judgment.
“You’re a female,” he adds in explanation.
“Oh.” It comes out exaggerated. “Sorry. I didn’t know.” Black jacket, white T-shirt, black jeans, and military or biker type boots. Apart from his unusual coloring, and angelic features, nothing about him says “gay.” But then, I grew up in Dallas where gays walk the streets with prideful flare. Not that Azure isn’t proud. I don’t know much about him to determine anything other than his style is cool and masculine—to me, anyway.
“No harm. Most people can’t tell. I’m not complaining. I get admired and hit on by both sexes all over the world.”
“The world?” Come to think of it, he has a very European style.
“My mom taught internationally. I was born in LA, but we moved to Germany when I was four and then to Sweden, and Spain, and the south of France before returning to the US.”
