I wasn't the type that liked mingling with others. In fact, I'd always believed people were just friendly enemies waiting to show their real colors. But of course, Maxie happened. Maxie changed my mind about a lot of things. Somehow, she made chaos fun. She dragged me to places, introduced me to people, and made me laugh when I wanted to frown.
So here I was, stuffed in the frontseat of her twin brother's car, bumping along the road to some picnic ground filled with strangers. My idea of "fun."
We reached the picnic ground and the place was already buzzing. Music floated in the air, a mixture of various interesting beats and someone's bad karaoke. There were grills smoking, pretty young women shouting, and of course beautiful people everywhere, I didn't care about the guys, they could be whatever. Too many faces. New faces. My chest tightened, but I also had that weird feeling: maybe today would be different. Maybe today would be great.
We were still in the car when it happened.
A half-naked blonde girl appeared out of nowhere like a badly timed jump scare. She tapped on Marcus's window with nails long enough to scratch a record. And Marcus, of course, rolled the window down, flashing his usual "I'm too hot to care" grin.
Then he kissed her.
Right there, through the car window. Like we were in some trashy music video.
My stomach twisted. Not because I had any right to be jealous well I didn't, but because it was so… Marcus. So typical. Marcus didn't keep a girlfriend. He kept girlfriends. Plural. Rotating like playlists. And that was exactly why I'd tried to build a concrete wall around my feelings. I knew better.
Beside me, Maxie rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Hey, snitch!" she snapped at the blonde. "Get off. He isn't even down yet and your..." she waved vaguely at the girl's hips, " is already itching. Puft. Fuck."
I bit my lip to stop my laugh. My best friend was savage. But I still motioned at her to let it go so we could just get down and set up our things.
Inside though? Inside I was a mess.
Was I truly in love with this thing? With this serial flirter? With this son of a... ugh. I couldn't even finish the thought.
Marcus finally untangled himself from the blonde and hopped out of the car like nothing had happened. I grabbed the basket Maxie had packed and followed her through the crowd. She stopped to greet almost every single person she saw. I swear it was like walking with a celebrity. Everyone knew her. Everyone wanted to hug her.
And me? I stood there like an unpaid assistant holding the bags.
Then, because life has no chill, Marcus and the blonde walked past us, heading straight for the toilets. And he had the audacity, the unholy nerve, to wink at me.
Wink. At. Me...
Like I was supposed to clap.
I cursed under my breath. "F*** you, Marcus."
I stepped back, trying to ignore him, trying to bury the small sting in my chest. That was when I felt it, something solid under my foot.
A second later, a voice exploded behind me.
He said it so loud that half the people nearby turned to look.
"Are you mad or something?" he snapped, voice sharp enough to slice through my ego. "Can't you be more careful? This shoe you stepped on is worth your life, bitch."
My jaw dropped.
Excuse me?
I turned slowly, expecting some random jerk, maybe a drunk guy or one of those rich kids who think the world spins because they blink. But the man standing before me wasn't random. He was… unreal.
For a second, I forgot to breathe.
He was tall, taller than Marcus even with sharp cheekbones and eyes that looked like trouble wrapped in silk. His shirt was dark, clinging just right to his body, sleeves rolled halfway up to reveal veins that looked like they could strangle common sense.The scent hit me next, sweet tobacco mixed with expensive cologne that could probably pay my rent.
He looked like a god who'd escaped from Olympus.
And his eyes. Lord... His eyes were dark, like they'd seen too much. There was danger in them, but also something magnetic. Something that made my stomach do weird backflips.
My mouth went dry.
Why did God let an angel escape heaven?
I wanted to trace him with my fingers, from the sharp line of his jaw to the veins on his forearms. I wanted...no, I did not want anything. What was I thinking?
But that voice ...ugh...it was the kind that made you want to argue just to hear it again.
But still, who the hell did he think he was?
I blinked, stepped back, and scoffed. "Oh wow, I didn't realize I needed a permit to stand near your royal shoes."
He raised an eyebrow. "Royal? Try expensive. And next time, try looking where you're going instead of walking like your eyes are on vacation."
"Vacation?" I folded my arms. "At least my eyes work. Yours clearly can't tell the difference between an accident and an attack."
He tilted his head slightly, amused. "An accident? You call stepping on a limited-edition handmade suede shoe an accident?"
I laughed. "Limited-edition? What, did Jesus make them?"
He blinked, like he didn't know if I was joking or insane. "You really don't know who you're talking to, do you?"
"No," I said flatly. "And honestly, I don't care. All I know is you're loud, rude, and dramatically attached to your footwear."
A few people nearby chuckled. That clearly bruised his ego because his jaw tightened, and his voice dropped low. "You think you're funny?"
"Sometimes," I said with a shrug. "Mostly when people like you start acting like the world owes them an apology because someone's heel grazed their overpriced slippers."
His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smirk. "You've got a mouth on you, sweetheart."
I stepped closer. "And you've got an attitude problem, rich boy."
He leaned in, eyes locking with mine. "You shouldn't talk to me like that."
"Oh, should I kneel instead?" I scoffed. "Sorry, your majesty, but I only bow to my mirror in the morning."
He chuckled under his breath, like he wasn't sure whether to strangle me or kiss me. "You've got guts. I'll give you that."
"Oh, thanks," I said sweetly. "And you've got… issues. You might want to see a therapist. Or a cobbler. For your poor traumatized shoe."
He looked down at his shoe dramatically, brushing an invisible speck of dust off it. "You scratched the polish."
"Wow. The world is ending." I gasped. "Someone call CNN. A girl scratched a shoe!"
He stared at me for a long, heavy moment, then smirked again. "Don't you dare."
"Oh please." I tried to discard him like I wasn't scared
He stepped even closer, invading my space. His cologne was sinful, tobacco, leather, and something dark I couldn't name. My brain short-circuited for half a second before I forced myself to glare back.
"You know," he said slowly, "I could buy you just to shut that mouth of yours."
My eyes widened. "Buy me?"
He smirked. "You heard me."
I gave him the fakest smile I could muster. "Sweetheart, if you can afford to buy me, you can afford to buy manners too. Try it."
He didn't laugh. He didn't even blink.
The corner of his lip lifted, but it wasn't amusement, it was mockery, cold and slow. "You've got fire," he said, voice flat, almost bored. "Too bad it burns in the wrong direction."
I folded my arms, refusing to let his calmness intimidate me. "And you've got nerve. Big one."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was some kind of bug under glass. "You really don't care who I am, do you?"
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. "Unless you're the President or Jesus himself, you can move along."
A faint, humorless smirk curved his lips. "Aec."
I blinked. "And… I'm supposed to faint or something?"
His gaze sharpened, not playful, not even annoyed just cold. "Most people know better than to talk to me like that."
"Well, I'm not most people."
His eyes lingered on me, steady, unreadable. It wasn't admiration. It wasn't curiosity. It was like he was trying to decide if I was worth the breath I was wasting.
"Clearly," he said finally, his tone cutting like glass.
For a moment, the air between us went heavy. No smile. No warmth. Just that quiet, intimidating calm that made me feel like I was standing in front of something dangerous the kind of person who didn't need to raise his voice to make the world listen.
Too bad for him, I wasn't built to bow.
I gave him one last look and said, "Next time, I'll wear boots. That way, when I step on your shoe, it'll actually be worth crying over."
His jaw tightened. Still no emotion, just a flicker of irritation, gone as quickly as it came.
Before he could respond, Maxie's voice broke the tension. "Sharon! What's going on here?"
I turned slightly, grateful for the interruption. "Nothing," I said flatly. "Just met a guy who thinks his shoes are made in heaven."
Maxie blinked between us, clearly confused. "Wait, what? Why are you both staring at each other like you're about to start a war?"
"Because she's testing limits," Aec said, his voice low and calm, too calm. "And I'm deciding how far to let her go."
Maxie's mouth fell open. "Uh… okay, wow. Look, mister whoever-you-are she didn't mean to step on you or whatever. It's not that deep."
Aec's gaze flicked to her, cold and dismissive, then back to me. "You should keep your friend on a leash."
I scoffed, stepping closer. "And you should keep your ego on one."
His eyes narrowed slightly, the only sign I'd gotten under his skin. Then, in that same steady tone, he said, "Watch your words. Not everyone who smiles at you means you're safe."
I felt the chill of it run through me, but I forced a smirk. "Good thing you're not smiling, then."
His gaze lingered on me and the silence and attention we got from the crowd...
Woah