Page 5 of The Deviation

He glances left—straight at me—before his gaze darts away again.

My heart rate spikes and I sit up straighter. “Holy shit, I think he’s stalking me.” The thought is way hotter than it should be.

Hannah shrieks her excitement. “Take a picture.”

Eyes widening, I growl into the phone, “I’m not taking a picture.”

“Why not? I want to seethe one.”

I’m still staring when he turns to look at me again. His limbs tremble and his chest heaves, but he doesn’t look away this time. Neither do I.

After a brief hesitation, he starts wending his way towards me through the passing crowd.

“Hannah, I’m gonna go. He’s headed this way.”

A delighted squeal threatens to burst my ear drum, and I pull the phone further away before she deafens me. “Yes, you go and have fun. Don’t forget to take a picture for me. You know, before you get to the good stuff.” The rambling cuts off as she hangs up.

Apparently, my little sister thinks I can’t get laid fast enough. Ugh. So disturbing.

THREE

______

JOHNNY

Turns out staring at someone from across a crowded tent is way easier than actually walking up to them and starting a conversation. Who knew?

I have no idea how long I stood there looking like an idiot as I waited for him to finish his phone call. I should have left the moment I realised he had no idea I’d followed him. He wasn’t waiting for me or leading me anywhere. He was just a guy chatting on the phone while scoffing a meal and ignoring the world around him.

I was on the verge of walking away—for real this time, as opposed to the other twenty times I tried to leave but couldn’t get my feet to move. Then, he saw me.

Maybe if he’d looked away again, or appeared uncomfortable, or glared daggers in my direction, I could have brought myself to put a stop to my ridiculous behaviour. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on me, following my every move. He seems transfixed by the sight of me, mesmerised even. Of course, it’s also possible he’s refusing to take his eyes off me because he finds my stalker routine to be deeply creepy.

Damn it, this whole night is turning into a farce. I’m a twenty-six-year-old man, not some simpering teenager. So what if I haven’t been single since I was fifteen? Who cares if I’ve never approached a stranger with amorous intentions even once in my life? I can do this.

Swallowing my nerves, I wipe sweaty palms on my jeans and force myself to put one foot in front of the other. Please, please, please, don’t let him be creeped out by me.

He straightens at my approach, and a moment later he lowers the phone to the table, apparently having put an end to his conversation. That has to be a good sign.

I come to a stop on the far side of the picnic table from where he’s sitting. “Hey.”

He stares at me with wide eyes. They’re green, his eyes. A perfect, clear, sea-green. “How did you find me?”

Not the most welcoming of questions, but the delivery is more curious than accusatory, so I opt for honesty. “I never lost you.” His eyebrows lift in surprise and I rush to explain. “At first I thought you wanted me to follow you, but then you stopped here and I realised…” Stop talking, you arse, before the hole you’re digging buries you. “It was an honest mistake.”

“A mistake you clued in to… what,” he glances at the time on his phone’s lock screen, “fifteen minutes ago?” A languid smile spreads over his face. “But here you are, lurking in the shadows.”

My face burns at his teasing. Is this what flirting looks like nowadays? Embarrassing the shit out of the other person? “I, um, I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.” It’s better than admitting it took every one of those fifteen minutes to work up the nerve to walk over here.

He seems to ponder my response for a moment. “What if I’d been on the phone for an hour? Would you have given up on me?”

This has to be a trick question. If I lie and say yes, I look like a fickle bastard. If I tell the truth, I’m an even bigger creep than I was before. “Maybe I would have become impatient,” I tell him. “I would have moved closer, grabbed a seat.”

He peers down the full length of the table, which is empty apart from us. It could easily fit ten with room to spare. “Where would you have sat?”

I point to the far end. “Down there.” He cants his head to one side and I nod solemnly. “But I would have butt-shuffled my way closer, slowly but surely. It would have been frightfully inconspicuous.”

He laughs out loud. “You would have been right about the frightful part.”