Jasper Pov
“What the bloody Hell are you looking at?” I asked, my patience waning. The trip was tiring. I drove as much as I could, but unfortunately, I couldn’t drive the car over the sea. So now I was on a cruise ship, shoved full with hundreds of bloody tourists, annoyed out of my mind.
“I was just curious as to why you’re wearing that, is all.” A teenage boy replied, eyeballing me. His accent was harsh, clipped, and I rolled my eyes at his attempt to speak English.
I looked down at my black shirt and blue jeans, casual, no holes or nothing, and frowned. What the hell was wrong with my clothes? “Why? Is it in the way? You’re not my type,” I muttered, raising my eyebrow at him. The boy blushed, holding his hands up and waving them in the air as he backed away.
“No! No, I mean, you
