❝𝒎𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒊𝒑𝒆𝒊𝒔.❞
(you're missing from me.)
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𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔
Iva Laurent lost her parents when she was eight. Sold to the black market by her only relative left on this earth, she was l...
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SHANGHAI December Location: Iva's Apartment
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Did you remember the time you were ever warned about talking to strangers? Stranger danger. The phrase actually rhymed to supposedly help you commit it into your memory easily. Turning my head slightly, my eyes stopped at the overattractive man who sat right in front of me while I struggled to understand why I couldn't recall that back in the club. Great, I not only talked to a stranger but brought him home too.
"Anything?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes," he nodded slightly, unfazed by my reaction as he placed the soda can beside him and turned towards me. "Let's go easy on you. What's your name?"
I tilted my head to the side and contemplated if I should play his game. But my silence was responded with a pair of saxe blue eyes staring into my direction, waiting anticipatingly for an answer and making it impossible to resist any longer. "Aria," I lied. "And you?"
"Jax," he replied swiftly without a single hesitation and I almost believed that was his real name. "Alright, Aria. What's your favourite number?"
"Hmm," I pondered for a moment and replied, "Seven. What's yours?"
"Ten," he smiled, resting his back against the wall as he stretched his long legs across the length of the window seat. His foot rested by my hips but not touching and my heart jumped. I felt warmth creeping up my neck and quickly shifted a little nearer to the window, establishing more space between us.
"Ten is such a random number," I commented.
"So is seven," he laughed.
"James Bond is never random," I feigned offence and he laughed a little louder in response. The corners of my lips lifted into a stupid grin as my hands reached for a throw to cover myself. The throw was huge enough for the both of us, so it was out of a natural reflex that I pulled the throw and draped it over his long legs beside me. When I came to my realisation, I retracted my hands out of panic. "I'm sorry, I just—" I fumbled with my words as though someone had tied a knot on my tongue, making me sound like a total idiot.
His hand shot forward to hold onto mine, the heat of his palm was warm against my naturally freezing fingers. "That's very considerate of you, thank you," he spoke in a tone that was well-modulated and tender.
It felt so frustrating to know how much effect this stranger had over me. Just a small gesture made by him already sent my heart thumping noisily in my chest and the butterflies fluttered their wings relentlessly in my stomach. I haven't ever met a guy who had the ability to topple me over and stir me up so easily. Not even him. I gulped nervously, feeling awfully helpless and vulnerable.
