Wil repositioned his baseball cap in his back pocket. Through the window, he saw Scott pace around the corner, an impatient look on his face. Across the street, the same young man wearing black leaned against the streetlight. He watched the diner with the same bored interest he’d shown at practice.
Wil was able to get a better look at him from this distance. There was something almost godlike about his appearance. His rich, thick, black hair lay in rippling waves around his bronzed face. His eyes were two deep black pools, almost perfectly round in shape. Wil suddenly felt as though the guy was staring straight at him. Pencil-thin eyebrows arched neatly over his eyes, and his nose seemed to have been sculpted to fit the shape of his face. His mouth remained unsmiling.
Someone tapped Wil on the shoulder. Turning, he was surprised to see a familiar pair of black eyes framed by long lashes gazing at him. The scent of sandalwood swirled around him, and he suddenly felt very hot.
“You dropped this,” she said and stuck out a perfectly manicured hand, which held a wallet.
Wil smiled at her. “It’s you,” he said without bothering to disguise the pleasure he felt.
“Yep.” She glanced around. “It’s funny that we seem to keep meeting here.”
“Yeah.” A swirl of fog settled over Wil’s brain, and he had a hard time thinking of anything to say. He used the momentary pause to study her. Today she wore a short red dress, which allowed her long, tanned legs to be seen by anyone wishing to look. The three-inch black stiletto heels she wore put her at eye level with Wil, and he brought his eyes back to her face. Her cherry red lips smiled at him.
“Do you…want this?” she asked.
Wil allowed his attention to drift to the wallet. As if he suddenly realized what it was, he shook himself and patted his back pocket. “Oh, yeah. Thanks,” he said as he took it from her.
“I figured you might need it.” Her smile flashed like a million-watt bulb.
“Yeah.” Say something intelligent, idiot.
After a moment, she shrugged. “Well, I guess I better be going.”
“Do you have to?” Wil asked as a feeling akin to panic fluttered in his chest. He didn’t want to lose her again. “I mean, I stomped kind of hard on your foot the other day. Can I at least buy you a burger or a shake or something to make up for it?”
“Oh, that’s sweet, but it’s not necessary.” She blinked, and her eyelashes fluttered like feathers. “Besides, we just moved to town, and I’ve got to unpack.”
“Really? Where?”
“This old house at the other end of town. It’s really run-down. A real fixer-upper.” She grinned. “And I am not good with wallpapering.”
Wil laughed. “Who is?”
“But how about I take a rain check? For that burger?”
For one moment, Wil wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Play it cool, he told himself. “Um, okay, sure. It might help if I knew your name, though.”
“Giselle.” She smiled and held out her hand in a cordial fashion. “Giselle Burnstone.”
Hesitantly he took her hand. Her flesh was warm and smooth, and Wil felt a rush of longing flood through him. He also felt hypnotized by her eyes. In fact, the fog in his brain obscured all thoughts from his consciousness until she gave a nervous laugh.
“I’d kinda like to know your name, if that’s okay,” she said with amusement.
“Oh, it’s, uh, it’s Wil Johnson.” Reluctantly, he released her hand.
“Well, Wil Johnson, I hope to see you again very soon.”
“Yeah, me too.” He kept his gaze on her as she started to turn away.
“Perfect!” Andrew’s grumbling voice reached through the murkiness of Wil’s subconscious, and he heard the clattering of a cell phone hitting the table. “Cushman just texted me. Coach has changed the lineup for—”
He stopped suddenly. So did Giselle. She stared at him, and Wil saw her splendid eyes widen with what seemed to be disbelief before she recovered her composure. He reluctantly tore his eyes from her to glance at his friend. Andrew gaped, his eyes roving all the way down to her toes and back up.
Giselle glanced from Andrew to Wil and back to Andrew, much to Wil’s dismay. “Hi,” she said with a faltering smile. “I’m, uh, Giselle. Burnstone.”
“Giselle,” Andrew repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”
Wil shot him a look. Andrew was making no attempt to disguise his awe.
“Yes. I like it.” Giselle turned her doe-like eyes on Wil for a moment, then looked back at Andrew. “I’m sorry, and you are…?”
“Andrew McGhee.” Wil heard no hesitation in Andrew’s voice. In fact, Andrew seemed absolutely sure of himself.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Andrew.” She held out her hand, and he took it brazenly. “I hope I’ll be seeing you again.”
“Count on it.”
Wil glared at him until Giselle touched his arm.
“Goodbye, Wil. Andrew.” She headed for the exit and disappeared into the sunshine.
“Wow!” Andrew exclaimed as Wil slid into the booth opposite him. “Now that’s who you should be taking to the prom.” He dove into his fries with zest. Wil sat still as a statue, his eyes focused on his friend.
His friend who had just hit on a girl Wil had asked out.
Andrew, as if sensing Wil’s attention, looked up.
“What?” he demanded.
Wil opened his mouth to speak, but Scott bustled up to the booth and sat beside him. “Holy shit, you guys are not going to believe what I just heard!” he said, then stopped. “What’s going on?”
No one spoke, and Wil felt Scott elbow his arm. Turning his head slowly, he stared at his best friend. The fog began to lift from his brain, and he glanced around in momentary disorientation.
“Scott? Where’d you come from?” he asked before he spotted the food on the table. “How long’s this been here?”
Scott snatched a chicken tender from the basket and bit into it. “Long enough to be cold. It’s a sad fate, really, for a chicken finger, but never mind about that now. Listen to what I just heard.”
Wil glanced at Andrew, who was staring at his own burger and fries with confusion. He looked up and met Wil’s gaze, and Wil knew they were sharing the same thought: What the hell just happened?