Mmmmm, vodka.
Maybe my appetite is coming back.
“Yeah, okay,” I agree, washing the few dishes in the sink. “Can you even go out in public without women going crazy over you?”
He shrugs. “It will be fine.”
I turn the tap off. I’ve seen him in magazines, on TV; he’s everywhere. I’ve seen him in the tabloids with different women, different stories appearing every time I check. I don’t know how much of that is true, but he seems to be playing the field. He’s the current it boy. He writes his own lyrics, plays his own music, and his voice is deep husky perfection. I’m sure it helps that on top of that talent, he’s extremely good-looking, but to me he’s the same old Dean. The one who used to play pranks on the teachers at school. The one I’d sometimes watch from afar.
My mind flashes back to the first time I met Dean Amore, back in high school.
I shift my bag on my shoulder, the heavy books inside weighing me down and making my arm ache. I look around for Ben, but he must be running late. He’s been busy recently and I haven’t spent much time with him. He’s probably been busy studying. That’s all I’ve been doing recently with exams coming up.
“Need some help there?” a husky voice asks from behind me. I turn to look at a boy I’ve seen around the school halls, but one I’ve never spoken to before. He’s tall, much taller than my five foot eight, with green eyes, brown hair, and dimples. His smooth tanned skin makes me want to reach out and touch it. He doesn’t look like he belongs here, in this school. He belongs in Hollywood, or some other magical faraway place. Maybe with the guitar that’s always attached to his side, that’s exactly where he’ll be heading.
“I’m okay, but thank you,” I tell him, readjusting the bag once more. “That’s what I get for being an overachiever.”
He laughs, flashing white straight teeth. He’s good-looking. Extremely so, and it’s hard for me not to notice. “Being ambitious isn’t a bad thing,” he says, leaning back against the building, his knee bent forward and foot resting on the cream bricks.
“Speaking from experience?” I ask, giving up and putting my bag on the ground. I move closer to him, also leaning against the wall.
He shrugs. “I have dreams.”
“I’m Sabina,” I say, offering him my hand. “I’ve seen you around but I’ve never spoken to you before.”
He looks down at my hand for a second before taking it, his large hand making mine look tiny and feminine. “Dean.”
“Great name,” I murmur, looking back over the courtyard. The guy is dreamy and charismatic, and to be honest I’m surprised and proud of myself for being able to string together a sentence without stuttering. Maybe it’s because the reason I’m standing here is Ben, and I know that Dean is just a random guy I happen to be having a random conversation with.
“Likewise.”
He likes my name?
I bring my attention back to him. “Are you waiting for a ride?”
“Something like that,” he replies, studying me.
Everyone in school is clearing out, and soon no one will be around. I don’t like being in places alone. It’s not that I’m paranoid, but I watch the news. The world isn’t what it used to be, and it’s better to be safe than sorry. I’m glad that Dean is here with me right now so I don’t have to stand alone, even if I only did just officially meet him for the first time.
And where the hell is Ben?
I look around again but can’t see him, just a few random students, and I’ve already missed my bus. I look back at Dean and find his eyes still on me. “Your ride is late too.”
“I drove here,” he says, lip twitching in amusement. “I just saw you standing alone and thought I’d keep you company.”
My eyes narrow slightly. “You always this much of a gentleman?”
“No,” he replies simply, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Yes,” I reply honestly, arching my brow. “What’s wrong with questions? Curiosity is a sign of intelligence.”
He looks down at my bag of books. “Yeah, I kinda got that.”
Our eyes connect and hold, and something sizzles between us. Attraction? I don’t know what it is, because I’ve never felt it before. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable if I’m being honest. There’s a strange tension between us and I don’t know if it’s good or bad. Probably bad, considering I’m dating someone. I clear my throat, but can’t seem to tear my gaze away even though I know I should.