Page 3 of Verses Of Us

“I’m Sonia. From the radio station. Welcome!” Alexis recoiled at the woman’s false exuberance, but she forced a smile and shook her hand, anyway. “Isn’t this wonderful? Are you excited? I bet you are.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” she answered softly, too disarmed by Sonia’s abrasive personality to say much more.

Alexis liked people with energy, people who wore their excitement on their sleeves. People like Julie. But Alexis wasn’t like them and preferred the quiet, mainly keeping to herself, leaving displays of enthusiasm for the others.

Struck by the signs of wealth surrounding her—the hotel’s white marble floors with gold flecks, the floral arrangements as tall as her—she dropped her head, feeling ill at ease. A man named Anthony met them and introduced himself as Ciarán’s manager. After offering a smug congratulation, he repeated the drilled-in rules. She listened, but her attention was elsewhere, her eyes moving through the large space, looking for Ciarán.

Despite the sign outdoors, the restaurant didn’t appear closed, with many people sitting at tables. Alexis recognized some band members, but didn’t know who the others were. A creepy hush lingered in the air. She found it all so strange, as if it was all staged. Everything was formal, stifling, as if she were about to meet the Prime Minister, not a rockstar.

“You’ve got an hour,” Anthony said, drawing her attention.

“That’s it?” With all the details discussed beforehand, nobody had mentioned she only had sixty minutes, and her stomach cramped. She’d spent a week preparing, trying to picture what she’d say, how she’d behave, and had always imagined they’d have a few hours together. Not just one.

Alexis glanced over at Sonia, who shrugged and walked away, then followed Anthony toward the rear of the dining room, all eyes on her. The unwanted attention made her face grow hot. But then she saw him, and her world shifted on its axes.

Even more handsome in person, Ciarán sat at a small round table, his legs crossed at the ankle. His jeans were dark, his sweater cream-coloured, and his unruly brown hair fell into his eyes, unkempt, as if he had rolled out of bed moments ago.

“Ciarán?” Anthony said, clearing his throat. “This is Alexis Stanek, the winner.”

Her heart wreaked havoc behind her ribs. Ciarán’s blue eyes lifted lazily from his newspaper up to her face. When he stood up, his height surprised her. Much larger than she’d imagined, he was at least a foot taller than she was and when his chest expanded with his deep inhale it reminded her to take a breath, too.

Ciarán extended his hand, his smile dimpling his cheek. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alexis.”

Like honey, his Irish lilt soothed her nerves and a nervous giggle escaped her. Her cheeks quivered from smiling and when she gripped his hand, the warmth shot right into her palm and up her arm.

“It’s an honour to meet you.”

“An honour?” Ciarán arched his eyebrow while glancing at Anthony, who ducked his head and walked away. Ciarán looked back at her. “Thehonour’smine.”

She worried he was mocking her. He pointed to the seat across from him and sat down. A waiter brought her a menu, and she propped it up, using it as a wall.

“I’ll have another Espresso and she will have…?” Ciarán cleared his throat, tugging her menu down with a perfectly groomed finger, peering at her over the edge. The intense shade of blue in his eyes stole her breath away—again—and reminded her of the sky on a cloudless, sunny day.

“I’ll have a mocha, please,” Alexis answered, her voice little more than a whisper.

Once the waiter was out of sight, Ciarán fell back against his chair and laced his fingers across his stomach, as if deflated. Under his intense gaze, an incredible pressure settled on her shoulders. No matter how hard she tried to take deep breaths, only small bursts of air entered her lungs. She didn’t know what to say, or how to act, her normal calm composure gone.

Much larger than life, Ciarán sat motionless. He was so close she could touch him, and yet she couldn’t believe he was anything but a figment of her imagination. She wished she’d brought some of Julie’s confidence along with her.

Abruptly, he shifted. Resting his elbows on the table, his glare turned sinister unexpectedly. “Are you planning on sitting there all day and not speak?”

She frowned. “Um, no…”

“So then?” He held her gaze, his tone louder than she appreciated.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I’m such a huge fan…”

“Obviously,” he rolled his eyes, “or you wouldn’t be here.”

She didn’t understand how he had shifted from a gentleman to a prick within seconds. Was he always this arrogant, or had she caught him on a bad day? All she knew was his mood was souring her experience, and she wasn’t here for that.

THE GREET

Alexis

Alexisshutthemenu,sliding it to the edge of the table. She rubbed her hands over her thighs, sensing her anxiety rise. Every scenario she had prepared for vanished and left her mind blank. Usually, she was articulate, quiet, sure a bit shy, but could manage a casual conversation.

With anyone except Ciarán Jones, it seemed.

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