Page 2 of Back to Willow

Her breath hitches right before my eyes, and her teeth press against her lower lip as she considers my offer. I can’t help but think of how sexy this expression looks on her, how big the urge is to release that lip and bite it myself.

The girl before me seems to have made up her mind as her long, toned legs finally move, slowly walking towards me with hips swaying rhythmically. I know, right here and now, I’ve got her.

Is it presumptuous of me? Yes. Am I ashamed of it? Maybe if this girl washerinstead, I would. But right now, with this desperate need to get rid of this torment eating me alive, I don’t care. If I have to use my looks for an escape once more…I will.

I lean against the wall, and she mirrors my position against the railing in front of me.

“Now, what brought you out here to the point of having you curse to yourself?”

Wow.I guess she was here for longer than I realised. Still, I don’t let my mask waver.

“Nothing to be worried about.”

I give her a small smile, and she nods, understanding my unwillingness to talk.

Good, because there’s no way we’re talking about this.

“I’ve never seen you around. Are you from here?” Her bold hand rises and starts teasing the top buttons of my white shirt.

She is interested.

I let her play with them and smirk back, which she takes as a sign be even more forward, unbuttoning the top two and exposing a little bit of my chest. To be honest, it feels good to have her touch me and talk to me.

The perfect distraction.

“Not really,” I answer honestly with a shrug of my shoulders. “I moved here for college five years ago.”

Her eyes widen, and I use the moment to watch her intently. They are warm and inviting like melted caramel, and her skin is flawless. A light slap on my arm wakes me from my hazy session.

“What? No way,” she exclaims playfully. “I am starting college here, too. Which one do you go to?”

Starting? No wonder she looks younger than me.

“Porto’s Medicine Faculty,” I answer.

“Oh!” Her whole face lights up, and my stomach coils with her reaction. “That’s close to mine. I am taking translation and literature. What year are you?”

I need this, and I should want this, so why do I feel guilty for giving this girl the time of day? It has been like this with everyone else. I haven’t been able to feel the same—or more—ever since.

But if I don’t push against this, against the shadow ofher, I will never move on.

So, I answer her question, “Entering the last year of my master’s degree. Currently finishing up my thesis while I start my residency.”

Curiosity is visible in her eyes and body language as she takes a step closer and asks, “Well, which speciality are you choosing after the residency?”

“Cardiology, I think.” I shrug my shoulder, still not exactly certain which way to go.

“So, you’re what, twenty-four?”

“No, I finished high school a year early, so twenty-three.” I try to contain the pride that threatens to drip off my voice. “You?”

“Nineteen, almost twenty.” She smiles seductively, not showing any signs of being intimidated by me being a little older.

“Quite bold of you to strike up a conversation with a stranger in a dark and empty rooftop,” I tease, my hand lifting slowly to grab a strand that fell free from her updo and lock it behind her ear.

“I had my eyes on you from the moment you walked into the building. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”

“Yeah?” I breathe out, stepping even closer. “Seizing the moment, are we?”

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