Page 18 of The Sinner’s Desire (The Sinner’s Touch #1)
When I woke up, there was a note from Amos on the table. It said he had to go away over the weekend but that someone would drive me to his beach house tomorrow.
Just like that—no questions, no discussion—he assumed I’d go along with his suggestion.
And he was right. I’ve decided to save the Caribbean for next summer.
Still, I keep thinking about that piece of letterhead paper.
Who even writes notes anymore?
The only conclusion I can draw is that he didn’t want me texting him. Maybe I’m too sensitive, but it felt like a clear “keep your distance.”
He didn’t say anything about going to the beach with me when he left my room yesterday.
I don’t even know why I teased him. Or maybe I do. Amos gets under my skin. Ever since I first saw him, I’ve had this fantasy in my head—and to this day, he’s the only one starring in all my hot dreams.
I drift aimlessly through the fashion section of the bookstore. I’ve been to several today, and it’s already dark. I’m trying to buy books to start building a little library for my future apartment.
Suddenly, I feel like someone’s watching me. When I turn around, I see a gorgeous guy looking straight at me. He has fair skin and hair as black as midnight. Tall, with a body that immediately draws attention.
I glance behind me just to make sure it’s really me he’s smiling at.
When I look back, he’s laughing—and there’s no doubt now. He’s laughing at me.
“I didn’t think you were looking at me,” I say before I can stop myself.
“I was,” he replies. “Now tell me that hair is dyed, or I’m going to hate you in five seconds.”
I burst out laughing. His charm is impossible to resist. “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s natural.”
He steps closer, and I offer my hand, but instead of shaking it, he gives me two kisses on the cheek. “Theo Argyros [1] .”
“You’re Greek?”
“Half. My dad’s Greek, my mom’s British.” He grins. “And you are...?”
“Lilly,” I say, then quickly correct myself. “Lillyana Ross. But everyone calls me Lilly.”
He nods. “Same here. If you ever call me Theodoro, our friendship is over.”
Is it possible to fall in love at first sight with someone? Because that’s what just happened. And I don’t even know anything about him other than his name, his last name, and the fact that I really want to be his friend.
“So what are you doing here all alone, Lilly? It’s almost six-thirty. Don’t your parents freak out when you wander off like this?”
I roll my eyes, laughing. His tone is dripping with sarcasm. “I’m a big girl. I was looking for books for my classes.”
“You’re studying fashion?” he asks, his enthusiasm contagious.
“Yeah, going into my fifth semester. I did the first two years in Paris.” As soon as I say it, I realize Amos would probably go crazy if he knew I was giving all this info to a stranger. But it’s too late now.
“Paris? That’s where I studied too.”
“You’re a designer?”
“Producer.”
“That’s amazing.” Now I understand why I noticed him right away. His clothes look like they were made just for him. They match his electric personality like a second skin. “Theo, I don’t have parents waiting on me, but I’m starving and I really need to grab something to eat.”
“Would it be super weird if I asked you to have dinner with me? I swear I’m not hitting on you. In case you haven’t noticed—I’m one hundred percent gay. I just really hate eating alone.” It’s not just what he says, it’s how he says it that shoots straight to my heart.
I can see the loneliness behind his words—and it gets to me. Because I know exactly what that feels like.
I’d honestly regret not spending more time with him, so I decide to accept.
“Can you show me some ID first? Even if it’s just the mall, I have to follow some basic safety rules, or my brother will absolutely lose his mind if he finds out I had dinner with a stranger.”
“Let’s do this: lend me your phone.”
I eye him warily, and he adds, “I promise I’m not some creep. Seriously.”
I give him a quick once-over. I trust my instincts, and they’re telling me Theo’s a good guy. Smiling, I hand him my phone.
He saves his number, then sends himself a message from my device. Next, he pulls out his wallet, takes a photo of his ID, and sends it to me. “Send it to your brother if you want. I’m not offended. These days, you can never be too careful.”
I save the image, but I don’t actually send it to Ethan. That would require way too many explanations.
“So? Shall we?” I ask. “You know any good places around here? I haven’t been out in Boston in years.”
“What do you feel like eating?”
“I can’t stay out too late,” I say, checking my phone—and only now do I realize the battery’s at three percent. It’ll die any minute now.
“A sandwich work for you?”
“Theo, I’m so hungry I could eat a brick.”