Page 2 of Breakaway

“What? No, I just thought?—”

“Drake, I’m joking!” I giggle, glancing between him and Angie. With how she’s chewing on her bottom lip, I know she’s trying to bottle up her laughter. “I love you two, but I’m glad I’m not going to spend the night feeling like I’m in your way.”

“Never.” Angie glances at something over my shoulder. “Hi, Roman.”

I turn my head; my gaze trails up a male’s chest in a tight black tee, and clashes with eyes that are a deep turquoise color. Naughtiness glitters behind his irises, and a coy smirk forms on his clean-shaven face. His eyes slide down my body, and my skin ignites. I’m suddenly feeling hot. This guy is easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

I blink, breaking the trance I’ve gotten myself into. Am I really salivating over a guy? Just because of his looks?

Don’t you remember Kyle Edwards, Nevaeh?

The prettiest faces often hide the ugliest souls.

Rolling my lips together, I look away and focus my attention on Angie. She frowns as her eyes roam over my face. She didn’t miss the way I went from smiling to scowling. Not that it surprises me. Since I met her on my first day of college, she’s been the only person in my life who knows everything about me. She gives me everything—love, zero judgment, and unconditional support. And I love her in return just the same.

“Hey, Drake, Angie,” the guy says, lining up with me. “Sorry if I made you wait.”

“Totally fine, man.” Drake shifts his gaze from this guy to me. “Roman, this is Nevaeh.”

Glancing to my left, I crane my neck so I can look him in the eyes. Even with heels on, I barely reach his chin. He’s probably a good six foot three. I’m not sure if it’s his height or the cocky grin on his face as he studies me from under his thick eyelashes, but something about him irritates me.

It doesn’t mean anything. I’m not going to be friends with this guy. This can be the first and the last time we see each other.

I extend my hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Roman.”

His gaze slips to my outstretched hand, then flashes back to my face. A slight tilt of his head, and he cradles my palm with his. My heartbeat goes pitter-patter, and a breath gets stuck in my throat. Our eyes lock, and he gives my hand a firm shake. His skin is warm and calloused. A billion tingles spread through my body; my whole being vibrates from one simple handshake. It’s so weird, it freaks me out. I force a smile on my face and pull my hand away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nevaeh,” he murmurs without averting his gaze.

I nod and look away, not meeting Angie’s eyes. The last thing I need is for her to start asking questions when I have no idea what’s going on with me myself.

“Should we head inside?” Drake suggests, and relief washes over me. A crowded club is exactly what I need to pull myself together. I’m in a relationship, and that’s all that matters.

“Do you need a refill?”Hearing the question, I squint at Roman. We’ve been at the club for three hours, and now we’re sitting at the bar to catch our breath. “Nevaeh?”

“No, I’m good,” I tell him, returning my gaze to the dance floor. For the last five minutes, I’ve been eyeing the crowd, into which Angie and Drake disappeared. I don’t know how I feel about being left alone with Roman. The number of times he has made me laugh tonight is equal to the number of times I’ve wanted to strangle him.

“How long have you known Angie?” he asks, and I meet his gaze. There’s a glass of whiskey in his hand, and his eyes are glued to my face.

“Since our freshman year.” I shrug, my fingers drumming on the bar. “What about you? How long have you known Drake?”

“We met on the ice before he joined the Thunders. Plus, his best friend, Colton Thompson, talked my ear off about him. When Drake walked into the locker room last season, I felt like I had already known him forever,” he drawls, bringing his glass to his lips. My traitorous eyes zero in on it. My mouth goes dry, and I pinch my brows together.Please, not again.“Angie and Drake look great together.”

“He’s helping her get rid of her ex. They’re just fake dating,” I mumble, noticing how his eyes widen. Oh my God! What am I doing? Angie’s going to hate me. “Forget I said that—I’m full of shit.”

Roman stares at me with the glass still pressed to his lips. Then he lifts one shoulder and says, “Horosho?1.”

I sit up straighter and tilt my head to the side, watching him with my eyes narrowed. “You’re Russian, right?”

A chuckle escapes his lips as he lowers the glass. “No.”

“But that was Russian, the word you said…wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he deadpans.

“Then how come you speak Russian if you’re not Russian?” I hook one leg over the other to sit more comfortably.

“You do realize people speak Russian in more countries than just Russia, right?” Roman puts his elbow on the bar and props his head on his fist.