“Wow. That’s a new one.” His smile tugged at one side, that dimple making its appearance. “I haven’t ever had someone make fun of my abs before.”
“No,” I hurried. “I wasn’t making fun. Your abs are no joke.”
He chuckled. “Do I get to be let in on the joke?”
“Oh, um …” I waved him off. “You probably don’t care.”
“I definitely care.” He crossed his arms, showing offthe feathered wing tattoo that caught my eyes every time, the amusement clear in his expression.
Of course. Of course he cared.
I wasn’t built for situations like this. Social interactions had never been my strong suit—not since moving to Kemery, and not back home. Cali had been my rock through the lonely childhood and school years, but even with her, I hadn’t built many social skills.
So, like an idiot, I spilled it all.
“My best friend from home, Cali—well, I call her Calico, but that doesn’t matter,” I rambled. “We video chat, and one day she saw a poster of you. Sometimes we talk about you—not much, because that would be weird—but anyway. She mentioned going to a swim meet so I could zoom in on your abs. I’d never do that, but I saw your poster and thought it would be funny to zoom in on that instead.”
He smiled wider with every word. “And here I was wondering if you recognized me at the library.”
“Everyone in this town knows who you are,” I pointed out, knowing he knew I’d recognized him. “You’re a local celebrity, and your half-naked body is plastered all over campus.”
“Not my fault my sport has me less dressed than others,” he said smugly. “And I have a hunch you and Calico don’t seem to mind.”
We definitely didn’t, but I wasn’t about to acknowledge that.
He held out his hand. “Let me see your phone.”
“My phone? Why?”
“Just … let me see it.”
I hesitated, then handed it over. He unlocked it with my face recognition, navigated the app, and hit record.
“Hey, Calico,” he said in that deep voice. I couldn’t believe it. He was recording a message to her. “I’m here with your bestie”—he paused, shifting so I was in the video too—“I just realized I don’t know your name.”
“Livvi,” I told him.
“Livvi,” he repeated. “I like that.”
Hearing him say my name sent goosebumps across my skin. How did he do that?
“I came across our girl Livvi zooming in on my picture for you,” he continued. “Found out I’m a topic of conversation, so I figured I’d say hi. I’m trying to convince her to take a video of my actual abs, but she’s not going for it.”
His grin made my stomach flutter. Something about him—his swagger, his playfulness, the way he reallylookedat me—was impossible to ignore.
He turned to the camera. “I’m assuming she told you about our run-in at the library. She tried to kick me out of a public place, claiming it was her personal study room. But with a beautiful woman like her in there, can you blame me for not wanting to leave?”
I wanted to laugh but kept it contained.
“Maybe you can talk her into sharing that room with me and getting that ab footage you’re looking for.”
He winked, ending the recording, and handed my phone back.
“Think she’ll like it?” he teased.
“She’ll love it. Although I should warn you, she’s head over heels for a guy where she lives.”
“Ah, too bad,” he said, unfazed. “And what about you? Anyone you’re head over heels for?”