Page 7 of Infinity Chronicles 1
I turn my face just enough, a little confused about why he's watching me so intently.
My heart starts beating faster. I want to turnaway from him. I want the bell to ring so I can stop staring at him. His mouth opens, his lips barely parted, and he stays like that for a moment, like he wants to talk but doesn't.
“I should have helped,” he mutters almost like he's speaking to himself, voice soft and deep all at once. It's a strange combination. Usually someone with such a deep tone sounds booming, louder than needed, but not him. Everything he says comes out more like a soft growl. You know the sound, when a dog is thrilled but growls anyway. That's what he sounds like to me. Not that I think he is overly happy, that's just the only way I can describe his voice.
I start to shake my head in denial. Ready to insist he shouldn't. He speaks before I can.
“I'll help,” he offers while we're still stuck looking at each other.
It's the longest I've let myselfactually focuson someone in a long time.
His dark hair is a little messy, not styled messy, more like he ran his hands through it this morning instead of a brush. His eyes are a strange hazel color, almost amber brown. He has sculpted cheekbones and a strong jaw, leading down to a thick neck and wide shoulders.
He's definitely handsome. No wonder cheer girl’s so territorial.
The bell rings and I actually jump from the shrill sound.
Unnerved, I snatch my bag from the floor and flee the room like it's a blaze. The whole thing probably only lasted under a minute, but I feel strangely exposed. Like that was enough time for him to know my every secret.
* * *
The diner is slow,I don't think they really needed to hire me. I'm rolling silverware into paper napkins when the door tingles a happy chime.
Two guys come in—one talking over his shoulder, barely looking around—they nab the first booth.
I pull my note pad from my apron and approach.
“Hi,” they both peerup when I speak.
“Where's Maggie?” the boy with short dark hair asks.
Looking down at the table I answer, “She's in the back.”
“She hired someone?” he questions his friend, whose long blond hair slides over his shoulder when he shrugs, then looks back up at me. He's almost pretty, his bone structure is crazy masculine, but his features are undoubtedly beautiful. Soft full lips, long dark eyelashes, and a perfect nose.
Distracting myself, I scribble on my pad.“Can I get you something to drink?”
“When did this happen, when did you start?” the other guy asks. I know better than to stareat them again.
“Only yesterday,” I answer softly.
“Why didn't she tell us she needed someone? She knows we would have helped.”
They're back to speaking to each other. I can hear how concerned they sound. It's almost like they've forgotten I'm standing here.
The whomp of the swinging door leading to the kitchen grabs my attention. I bite the corner of my lip, I haven't even managed to take their drink orders. If these guys offer to help Maggie out, I'm more than likely going to lose my job.
“Hey boys,” she greets them affectionately.
“Gran,” dark haired boy greets.
“Ollie, you and Milo better not be giving Laura a hard time.” Both of them react to her saying my name.Glancing up at me quickly.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask again, hoping they answer so I can walk away.
“Coke,” they both say at the same time.
I turn without writing it down and shove my notepad in my apron. By the time I return, Maggie is leaning her hip on the booth’s high-backed seat. She and the guys carried on a quiet conversation for a few seconds.
