Page 21 of Sing for Me
What the hell? "You okay?"
She nods. "I don't walk in on casual sex very often."
Uh-huh. No way in hell am I buying that story.
But there issomethingabout her expression.
She seems innocent.
Like it really was an accident.
"I was looking for the bathroom." She takes a step backwards. "Excuse me. I should go."
Huh? Fangirls don't usually run away when they finally have the attention of their celebrity crush.
But there's no fucking way that story is true.
Something isn't adding up here.
I have to figure this out. I offer her a smile. It's as sincere as I get lately. "You're not going to let me formally introduce myself?"
"Okay." She pulls her hand from her side. "I'm Meg Smart."
"Miles Webb." I take her hand and shake. Fuck, she's nervous. Her palm is clammy and her brown eyes are filled with apprehension. "I’m surprised we haven’t met before."
"I don't go to parties."
"Guess that makes this my lucky day."
There's something about the earnest expression in her eyes.
I almost believe that shit upstairs was an honest mistake.
One more question and I'll know.
"Why'd you decide to come tonight?" I ask.
Again, she blushes. This time, she manages to hold my gaze. "My friend convinced me I wouldn't hate it."
Shit, Idobelieve her.
That means no clueless fangirl roleplay.
But this—the way she's looking at me like an actual human being who she desperately wants to fuck—is way better.
"What's the verdict?" I ask.
"I still don't like parties." Her chest heaves as she inhales. She exhales with purpose. Her eyes go to the floor, then they're back on mine. "Why'd you come tonight?"
She blushes at the wordcome.
I point upstairs. "That was my bedroom you burst into."
That blush deepens.
Damn, she's shy.
I better take this slow.
