The Laws of Attraction

04-Jules

The Law of Persistence—“Keep going, even when things get messy.”

It was 7:51pm, and I was absolutely not freaking out.

My ass wasn't sweaty. My breathing wasn't weird, and most importantly, I was calm.

I power-walked.

Curse Professor Brown and his perfectionism tick. He’d kept me in his office dissecting my Civil Procedure case brief far longer than I'd expected, and by the time he dismissed me, and I went home to freshen up, I was already late.

I skipped over a broken slab.

Fuck, would he even still be there?

I’d tried to call him about being late, but what do you know, I didn't have his contact. And when I'd reached out to others for it, no one had had it either.

Just how anti-social do you have to be for no one to have your contact?

Rosa's finally came into view and I slowed my steps.

God, walking was starting to feel like punishment. If only I had a car or a bike, but with my credit dues and law school taking almost every penny I earned, affording a mode of transportation wasn't exactly… easy.

I paused outside the door and took a deep breath.

If he wasn't inside the worst case scenario, he'd hate me for eternity. If he was inside though…

I pushed open the door and was immediately greeted with a sight I wasn't prepared for.

Rosa's was packed, which I wouldn't have thought too much of if it weren't for the fact that most of the patrons looked a lot like my schoolmates.

What the hell?

“Sorry deary,” Rosa of Rosa's came to me. She was a sweet old lady from Italy and her Chicken Marsala was to die for.

“We have no available seats. You'll have to wait until one opens up.”

“No need, I'm supposed to meet someone.”

“Oh? A date?” Rosa's eyes sparkled. “Name?”

“Killian Kingsley.”

“Ah, you're the one the gentleman is waiting for. You're very late, dear. Come this way.”

She led me through the wave of students to the left wing, where, sitting in one of the booth seats, looking royally livid at his phone and drumming his fingers, was Killian Kingsley.

Killian Kingsley, who was wearing a deep navy Henley and…

I nearly tripped over myself.

…Whose arms had absolutely no right looking like that.

Rosa stopped moving. “Ah, there he is. I believe you can find your way from here.”

“Yes—thank you,” I said, still staring.

Dark lines were suspiciously peeking out from beneath his rolled up sleeves.

But it couldn't be. Killian Kingsley, the human embodiment of a law textbook, couldn't possibly have—

Rosa chuckled under her breath, stepping closer. She tipped her head toward my ear and whispered, “You're very lucky to have such a very handsome man.”

Before I could correct her that he wasn't mine, she was gone, leaving me dumbfounded.

And as if sensing me, Killian looked up in my direction and the full force of his gaze locked on mine.

My heart kicked up into my throat, and I froze.

For one tiny moment, I felt like I couldn't breathe. With his wire-rim glasses resting on his angular face. Wavy hair. Perfect cheekbones. Full-lip women these days pay surgeons to get. Killian Kingsley was handsome.

Honestly, it had to be a crime to be that good-looking or have those long lashes.

I started to move again, more on autopilot than on intention, and by the time I reached the table, my spine was straight again and my practiced smile was back in place.

“Hi.”

For a traitorous second, I wondered what he'd look like if he smiled back.

But instead, his lips pressed down into an even thinner line and those lashes of his narrowed down as his gaze sharpened. “You're late.”

And there went my fantasy.

I shook myself and gave him a sheepish smile as I took the seat across from him. “Sorry, Professor hostage situation. I would have called, but I didn't have your contact. Speaking of, can I have it?”

He was giving me that strange look again. “Why?”

“Um… so that I can reach you next time.”

“You believe there's going to be a next time?”

It didn't really look like it, but I wasn't going to admit it. “You never know. You might fall in love with me before the night is over. I can be very charming.”

And because I had no self-respect left to lose, I leaned over the table and batted my lashes.

“What are you doing?”

“Pardon?”

“Your eyes keep… twitching.”

My soul left my body. “What?”

“It’s stopped now, but you might want to check with your doctor later, it could be serious.”

“I—” I coughed and sat back like the table had personally attacked me. “That was intentional.”

He blinked once. “Oh.”

Oh, indeed. Silence stretched between us, as socially uncomfortable as a cheese pull. The date hadn't even started and I already wanted to scream into a pillow.

Thankfully, a waiter appeared with the menus.

Already familiar with the food, I wasted no time choosing. And because I apparently was a sucker for punishment, I tried again.

“So… how was your day?”

He shrugged, fingers moving along his menu. “Good.”

Really? That was all. For crying out loud, give me something to work with here.

“Ah, do you mean, like ‘I found a twenty in my pants’ good or ‘my coffee didn't spill on me again’ good?”

His fingers hovered over his menu, frozen midair. Then he looked up at me and blinked, a faint crease appearing between his brows. “What?”

“I mean, you know, good is relative! Like some people's good is okay-ish, some people's good is life-changing, and some people's good… well, it's like discovering that eating bread with noodles slaps together.”

His mouth parted slightly, like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or ask if I was serious, before he leaned back slightly, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath. “A Dhia, tá sí ar mire.”

“Sorry?”

“That's… an interesting take on things,” he said, flashing a polite smile that very clearly didn't reach his eyes.

Right. I narrowed my eyes. And I was born yesterday. I’d bet Sam’s balls that that wasn't what he said at all.

But before I could press on it, the waiter came.

“Ready to order?”