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Excerpt
“He’s been
staring at you since we sat down. He’s trying not to be obvious about it, but I
see him. I’ve got his number,” Mena spoke softly from across our table. Her
eyes had been just as glued to the screen of her laptop, as mine had been to my
own. It was beyond me how in the world she could have noticed anything outside
of the Word document on the screen in front of her.
“Are you
sure it’s me he’s looking at? You haven’t turned your head once since we’ve
been here, not even when giving the waiter your order … which was kind of rude,
I may add.”
“I have a
paper due tomorrow and no time for pleasantries, and I don’t have to turn my
head to see anything; my screen may as well double as a mirror with the way
it’s reflecting everything in this horrendous lighting.”
“It beats
sitting in our dorm room, listening to Bruce Springsteen on your iPod all
evening,” I muttered. Curious, I tried to see over Mena’s chestnut brown hair,
casually craning my head upward and then quickly looking back down again for
fear of being caught.
“Keep that
up and he’ll think you’re having a seizure,” she quipped. “Give me a second and
I’ll bend down and act like I’m tying my shoe. You’ll get an unobstructed view
of him, then.”
“Mena, for
god’s sake, you’re wearing boots.”
“He doesn’t
know that.”
“How do you
know he’s looking at me? It could be you he fancies.”
“Fancy? I
thought we were in some dive coffee shop on the east side, not in a quaint café
in some storybook English parish.”
“Blow me.”
“That’s
more like it.”
Mena’s
finger made a final swipe across the touch pad on her keyboard, as she saved
the paper she’d been feverishly working on for the better part of the last
three days. Paper safely tucked away on her hard drive, her big, brown eyes
glanced up at me for the first time since we’d been seated. “I know it’s you
he’s interested in because, as you’ll recall, I was walking behind you when we
came in. Elle, when he saw you, it was like one of those scenes out of every
corny ass romantic comedy I’ve ever seen … you know, the one where time stands
still the moment the love interest walks into the room in slow motion to the
tune of some even cheesier eighties song playing in the background. That’s how
he was looking at you, not me. As far as I’m concerned, he’s probably
cursing my mother for my conception right now, since I’m the only thing
standing in his way of getting an unobstructed view of you.” She took a sip of
her frappuccino, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes in disgust as she set
the cup back down. “The next time you want to drag me out of our dorm, I’m
choosing the venue.”
“At least
I’ll have until when hell freezes over before I have to worry about that.”
Mena rolled
her eyes, backing her stool away from the table. “Show time,” she said as she
bent down to inspect her lace-less boot.
I waited a
few seconds before I allowed myself to look, trying not to appear overeager or
make what we were really doing all too obvious to whomever it was I was trying
to see. Truth be told, I hadn’t noticed much when we walked in, instead keeping
my eyes focused on the small table in the corner of the shop where we were now
sitting; the perfect spot to be alone, yet among the Roanoke social scene at
the same time. After the passing of a respectable amount of time, and finding
myself unable to hold back any longer, I allowed my eyes to wander to the table
situated twenty feet behind Mena.
“Well?” she
asked.
“There’s
like a half dozen guys, all staring at either textbooks or laptops sitting at
that table. Which one am I supposed to be noticing ogling me?”
“The blond
one, third one from the end, closest to the door. Hurry up, I’m starting to get
a neck cramp.”
I glanced
back up at the table full of our college-aged peers again, a little more
obvious about it this time than before. If I’d had any doubts about the
identity of the blond Mena had wanted me to find, they were quickly erased
when, the second I found him, he found me, too. Everything told me to divert my
attention elsewhere, not to make it obvious that I was staring back at him, but
once my eyes caught a glimpse of his face, there was no turning away, despite
my better judgment.
His blond
hair was thick, bordering on shaggy, even though it was obvious from the way he
was dressed and seemed to carry himself that he probably had painstakingly
attempted to groom it before going out. It reminded me of my own unruly locks
before I cut them to their length just above my shoulders, making them easier
to maintain. Even more striking, though, were his eyes. Set in a round,
cherubic, face were two azure orbs that stood out so vividly they couldn’t help
but take your breath away. Eyes that commanded your attention, that begged you
not to look at anything else. I didn’t look away, and neither did he. His blue
eyes met my hazel eyes and they remained locked in a shameless tryst that
wouldn’t—perhaps, couldn’t—be broken by either of us.
Author Bio 
Raised all over the country, I'm a interesting mix of East Coast meets West Coast with a little bit of Southern thrown in, just for good measure. I married a sexy man in uniform who let me spawn and am now raising a mutinous army of hell raisers that I created myself, all while he defends our country. I drink too much coffee until it's late enough to drink too much wine and am sexually frustrated for your freedom. If you see me online, I'm probably sitting in a closet, hiding from my kids. 
Fluent in sarcasm, Supernatural, and song lyrics, I like talking to people and finding what makes them tick, though that probably has to do with the Psychology degree. I’m up before the sun because my kids don’t sleep, chugging tea and coffee to keep my eyes open and my brain semi functional. Being married to a man in uniform means I’ve lived a lot of places, survived seeing my husband for half the amount of time I’ve been married, and spent a lot of time raising my kids alone. 
