“You know my name.” His gaze is sharp, intelligent, a little wary. God, those eyes. They are some pale shade, impossible to make out from here. Blue? Green? “You were looking at me earlier.”
So much for stealth.
“I don’t know you,” I say truthfully, my heart hammering. “And you don’t know me. My name’s Riddick, and a… friend of mine told me about you.”
“A friend?” Head tilted to the side, he tries to work this out. “A woman.”
I nod, my mouth dry. “She said you don’t date.”
“And that interests you, why?”
I let out a breath and shrug. “I thought maybe you prefer guys?”
Oh fuck. Where did that come from? Maybe it’s those damn painkillers.
“Are you asking me out?” He steps closer, and Jesus Christ, the guy’s even better looking up close.
Green eyes. Very green. Damn pretty.
“Depends.” I swallow again. “Would you be interested?”
He gives me a once-over. He takes his time doing it, too, those remarkable eyes sliding from my worn shoes up my legs and torso to end on my face, and I swear I feel it all the way.
A boner? Ha. The tent I’m pitching threatens to split my tights apart.
“I might.” He gives a lazy, sexy smirk, and my pulse jumps in my throat.
Whoa, back up again. He might?
I didn’t expect that. I fucking didn’t expect that. I asked the question on impulse—a lot of that going on today—and the last thing I expected was a tentative yes.
“So you’re not into girls, huh?” My mouth is still on autopilot.
“I’m into both,” he says quietly. “And neither.”
And with that, he turns back around and walks away, leaving me more confused than ever.
Chapter Six
Bent Joystick
Ryan
This guy.
Riddick, that’s what he said his name was.
I like the sound.
And I can’t get him out of my mind. Can’t scrub that handsome face and intense gaze off my memory. Those questions.
“Would you be interested?”
I might.
“So you’re not into girls, huh?”
Not into anything lately. Living on the fringes of life. But this Riddick….