Page 110 of Lovers Like Us
I need to look up, and the moment my eyes hit his eyes, he’s full-on smiling that know-it-all smile. His barbell lifts with his brows. He definitely caught me checking himout.
I scribble a giantzeroon my piece of paper and flash it tohim.
He rolls his eyes, his smile out of this fuckingworld.
Jane narrates, “At twenty-seven, he’s the second oldest bodyguard in Omega. A maverick and an Aries, Farrow can make a delicious egg and baconsandwich.”
Beckett gives Jane awhat-the-fuckface.
Jane shoos her brother. “He’s the most medically savvy and also professionally MMA-trained. Farrow,” she says as he stops and takes a candy cane from Donnelly, “who is your favoritecelebrity?”
He speaks into the candy cane. “Everyone but MaximoffHale.”
God, I’m smile-grimacing. There’s something seriously wrong withme.
“Boo,” Sullisays.
“That’s two zeroes,” I tellFarrow.
His lips quirk. “I think you mean twoperfect tens.” He sits at the booth, and his tattooed fingers push his white hair out of his eyelashes, too sensually.Fuckme.
“No.” I lick my lips. “I meantzeropluszero.Which equals a load ofnothing.”
“And look at that,” he smiles wide, “your honesty merit badge isgone.”
I’d react somewhat differently than cringing, but my head and stomach feel weird. Like dizzy? I don’t know yet. I tear my gaze off his, but I sense him studying myfeatures.
“Oscar Oliveira,” Janeannounces.
He emerges in red silk boxers, and he baby-oiled his golden-brown skin, his abs shiny and moredefined.
“Cheater,” Donnellyboos.
Oscar struts down the hall. “You were never going to win,Donnelly.”
I sip my eggnog. I can’t tell if the taste is off or not. Did I give Sulli the right mug? I did…I’m not drinking alcohol.I’mnot.
Right?
“…a thirty-year-old Taurus,” Jane narrates, “and Yale graduate, this former pro-boxer likes snack breaks and not very much surprises him. Nothing catches this man off-guard.”
Oscar halts and flexes abicep.
“Oscar,” Jane says, “if you were a candy bar, what candy bar would yoube?”
“Snickers. You’re not yourself withoutme.”
Laughter, and Donnelly drums the table. I stare at my mug, fixed on the creamy liquid.I drank alcoholblares in my head on highalert.
A lump lodges in my drythroat.
“Maximoff.”
“What?” My head swerves—Farrow isrightnext to me. On the couch. Jesus Christ. I didn’t even see him walk over here. It’s not like he had far to go but…I’m fixating on stupid things. Avoiding my reality.I drankalcohol.
I gorigid.
“What’s wrong?” hewhispers.
