Page 2 of Talk Nerdy To Me
His dark hair is sticking up in short spikes that actually suit him. I think he has on eyeliner, but I could be wrong. He’s a lot taller, so I’m still gaping with my head tilted back so that I can see him. I’m positive it’s not a very attractive scene.
A black T-shirt that says “The Fallen” is fitted against his body like he wants to hint to the lean contours of definition it barely conceals.
I stare at that too. And his arms that have some ink peeking out from under the short sleeves, alluding to hidden tattoos.
He’s smirking while my eyes move over him, idly wondering how long I can look before it becomes rude or imposing. Deciding it’s been long enough, I yank my gaze back to the masquerade women.
“Actually, I think I know the answer to my question now,” he says, looking me over as though he’s amused.
Don’t trust my judgment on assessing moods, though. For all I know, he could be constipated. I’ve mistaken the two before.
He shakes his head; however, I don’t know why he does it. “That’s a real shame,” he says on a long sigh.
What?
“What question do you know the answer to? And what’s a shame?” I ask as he turns away, the ability to speak returning with the loss of his attention, as though the two are linked.
A phenomenon I will definitely explore later.
He just laughs as he walks away, leaving me thoroughly confused, but I have more important things to worry about.
I have to keep my brother’s club from falling apart for one night.
