Page 7 of The Revenge Plan (Forbidden Descendants 1)

Seriously, though. What did I say?

Nice shirt?

No. Too lame.

I love you?

Shit. No. Anything but that.

She approached.

It was now or never time.

I stepped forward.

She smiled over her shoulder at her friends, who were leaving out the other exit on the opposite side of the room, calling goodbye to them as she veered my way without looking where she was going.

Oh, damn. Too close. We were going to collide.

I tried to step back, out of her way, but she plowed right into me, her shoulder bumping against my arm.

“Oomph,” she

said, stumbling a step back, her slight frame no match against my bigger one. “I’m so sorry.” Then she looked up, and that was it.

Game over.

Her eyes were so freaking big and brown and beautiful; I was instantly lost.

She looked better up close than she did from across a room. And her scent…holy fuck. She smelled really good. I might’ve swayed forward, my nostrils eager for another whiff.

Which probably appeared weird. So I pulled back, only to realize…

Damn it all to hell.

This wasn’t going to work. This wasn’t going to work at all. I’d built her up too much in my head. She may be a complete stranger, but I’d already convinced myself she was perfect. If I got to know her now and she didn’t live up to all my expectations—which I don’t see how she could—I’d only be disappointed. And if she actually got anywhere close to the person I imagined her to be, then I’d never be worthy of such an amazing girl.

The entire relationship was fucked before it had even started.

It was my own stupid fault for obsessing about her before ever talking to her. I had ruined everything.

And now… Now I was totally staring at her for far too creepily long.

Her brow crinkled over my ogling ways. “You okay?” she asked when I swayed on my feet, my head so empty of oxygen that it left me disoriented.

Reaching out, she clutched my arm to steady me. Her grip was firm but friendly, and the compassionate concern in her gaze as she scanned my face slaughtered me.

A million visions flashed through my head: our first kiss, me kneeling in front of her, proposing, then standing beside her at an altar in a tux as she wore a wedding gown, Christmases together, Thanksgivings, zoo trips, vacations, late nights watching TV on a couch, raising children, spoiling grandkids, sitting in a pair of those old-time rocking chairs side by side and holding hands as we watched the sun set on our golden years.

I swear, an entire lifetime we could share together zipped through my brain.

Then she let go of my arm, and the moment was over.

I nodded my head stupidly, bowing my face and bereft at the loss of her touch, the loss of that future I’d just envisioned. “Uh…yeah. Fine,” I mumbled, briefly squeezing my eyes closed. “Sorry.” I stepped back to let her by. “I-I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“No, you’re okay.”

I risked a glance up, just in time to catch her uncertain smile of reassurance before she stepped past me.

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