Page 156 of Merry Me
And then he stepped out.
MyEaston.
Wearing sweats that hugged his frame like it had a personal vendetta against my self-control, his hair a mess…He looked equal parts wrecked and godlike. His face was tired. There were smudges under his eyes. But even exhausted, he was stupidly beautiful.
Screams went up around me.
People surged forward, shouting his name.
You could see him take a deep breath and turn on the movie-star smile, even though it must have been killing him.
He started walking, his eyes scanning the crowd half-heartedly.
And then…
He saw me.
His gaze landed on mine like a magnet snapping into place, and I watched as his eyes widened and he gaped at the fact that I was such a glorious, sweaty, nervous, beautiful mess.
Or at least that’s what I was imagining was going through his head at the moment.
It took half a second.
Then his eyes went up to the sign I was holding above my head.
Slowly his face broke into a wide grin. Not the practiced, charming one he’d been giving a second before.
The smile he’d only ever given me. Realer. Like a secret he was thrilled to keep.
The noise around me began to shift. The fans closest to me turned, eyebrows raised.
“Wait…is he looking at?—”
“Who is that?”
“Why does she look familiar?”
“Wait…is that the girl he was photographed with over Christmas?”
More heads turned.
More eyes landed on me.
But I didn’t move. I’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe, and my whole life suddenly hinged on Easton taking one step forward.
Then another.
And another.
Making his way through the crowd…straight to me.
His eyes were soft.
They stayed locked on me like I was the only one here. Not the swarm of fans. Not the paparazzi. Not the guy with anI Love Eastonshirt standing awkwardly to the left.
Just me.
He moved past the velvet ropes. Past security, who opened the barricade without question because, apparently, being Easton Maddox came with Jedi-level authority.
