Page 28 of Mud

They had plates and napkin-wrapped silverware, plastic trays that didn’t look all that clean, but the plates were white and shiny, at least. I was in the process of debating which of the sunny-side up eggs I wanted to pick, when someone spoke from right next to me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

My neck snapped to the side so fast it was a miracle my bones didn’t break. My heart was already galloping in my chest, but when I saw his face, everything came to a halt—even the loud sound of chatter in the cafeteria.

He was about six foot three, on the skinny side, though he had plenty of curves on his arms that the cut-off sleeves of his white shirt revealed. His hair was as dark as a starless night, and so were his brows, thick as my pinkies. His eyes were such a deep brown they looked completely black. The gorgeous pink tint to his full lips could make a girl jealous, and his skin looked silky smooth, perfectly shaved.

Not going to lie, I stared. How could I not? Every line on his face was perfect, every strand of hair exactly right. I was tempted to reach out a hand to touch him, just to make sure he was real becauseno way in hell.

“See, Frankie there cooks the eggs for us,” he continued because he couldn’t tell I’d stopped breathing completely. Of course not—my face remained expressionless. By that point it was pure instinct—feel something, conceal it, continue to act unbothered.

“And Frankie, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, isn’t exactly…clean.” He pointed at the other side of the food stands, at the wide kitchen full of stainless-steel appliances and people dressed in white uniforms. Elves and dwarves, most of them, but some halflings, too. There were twenty-three of them that I could see, and each was working in a certain part of the kitchen, but I found the guy this boy was talking about fairly easily. He was the first in the third row of appliances, and he was cracking eggs open on the four skillets over the fires. He would then throw the shells somewhere under his stovetop, wipe his hands on his white uniform and continue to shake the skillets.

“Stains,” I muttered, surprised to find I had a voice when this boy was so close to me—and he smelled like my next, wildest fantasy, one I would not stop daydreaming about for days to come. Leather and smoke and darkness. He smelled like a night at the beach sitting near abonfire—at least in my imagination since I’ve never actually seen a bonfire before.

“Wait foriiiit…” he whispered, sending goose bumps up my arms instantly. My eyes were on Frankie still, but half my attention was on this stranger.

Until Frankie ran his hands over his greying hair that looked a tad bit greasy, if I wasn’t mistaken, then wiped his nose with one hand, and used that same hand to guide the eggs onto a metal tray.

A metal tray identical to the one in front of me on the food stand now.

Bile rose up my throat.

The stranger chuckled—what a sound. Cold and warm at the same time.

“He’s been doing that same thing for the past year and a half since he started working here,” he said, and the more he spoke, the more alluring his voice became—or maybe it was just me.

I looked up at him again—goddess, you’re beautiful—and stepped away from the stand. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Any time,” the boy said, dark eyes on every feature of my face, analyzing me slowly.

Maybe I should have left right away, turned my back to him and disappeared—but how could I when he was leaning against the other stand with his arms crossed in front of him, a sneaky, mischievous smile on his face? He had dimples, too, that added so much to his appeal, and those lips.Wow,his Cupid’s bow was shaped exactly like a heart. Though the sun shone outside the windows, he was somehow standing in the shadows. I was right in front of him, and the sun was on my face, but none of the rays touched him. Like they couldn’t reach him. Like the shades that fell from the window frames and the pillarsexisted for the sole purpose of protecting him from the light.

“You might want to stay away from the pudding, too. Mrs. Channing is in charge, and she has long black hair that will inevitably wrap around your spoon while you eat, and you’ll only realize it when you touch it with your ton?—”

“Stop!” I said, raising my hand at his face.

“But I’m not done yet,” he said, his smile growing and growing, pulling my own out of me. His dimples looked good enough to eat.

“Yes, I realize that, but I’m going to throw up all over you,” I warned him, bringing my hand to my mouth as if to prove to him that I was serious, but in reality, I was only hoping to hide my smile.

“See, I really don’t think I’d mind all that much,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, and there went my attempt at killing that first small smile. This one was too big, too powerful. I didn’t even bother.

He looked at my lips stretching like he’d never seen a more fascinating thing, which then made me blush harder in turn.

“You have freckles,” he said, as if freckles were a rarity he’d never come across before. “And a triangle right there.”

Before I knew it, his hand came up and he had silver rings on all four fingers that looked really good on him. The tip of his index finger lightly touched the beauty mark near the corner of my right eye, and I didn’t move away. I didn’t even blink my eyes as I looked at him, and I thought,I’ve never experienced a moment like this before. A stranger moment. A fuller moment. One so intense that it scared me and made me giddy at the same time.

A moment like those the characters of my books went through all the time.

He put his hand down then, eyes on my lips. “Try the oats with the apricot jam and Greek yogurt. They’re all safe,” he said.

Safe—to eat, he meant. To eat breakfast.

Which was what I was here for.

All of the sudden the noise in the half open cafeteria returned and I realized there were probably more than a hundred people surrounding us right now.Shit.I’d probably stared like an idiot.

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