My eyes pull away from him as they catch a glimpse of the boy behind him. He’s dressed in a gray suit, watching me. He looks older than me, maybe eighteen. His long, dark hair falls perfectly over his eyes and down to his shoulders. Just like Declan’s.
He smiles and stands up straight when our eyes meet. “Are you talking to me?” he asks. Declan stiffens.
No matter how many English people surround me, this boy’s accent makes my heart prepare for the Olympics. It’s soft, deep and brushes against me like silk. He’s in a league of his own.
“I-I was talking to my brother.” I point fruitlessly to the dance floor as the boy moves a few feet closer.
“I’m John Elliot Ashdown.” He stops, looking me over. “But you can call me Jack.”
He nods approvingly, his green eyes meeting mine as he leans against the top of the landing. The cockiness in his voice makes me laugh, which I quickly cover with a cough. Declan frowns, moving out of my way so that I can shake hands.
“Baxter…Baxter Arabella Jacobs.”
“Baxter Baxter, huh?” He looks me over once more, making my cheeks flush.
“Glad you’re not a boy.”
“Happy not to disappoint you.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, wondering what possessed me to reply like that. It’s not like I enjoy flirting with cocky guys. And yet, my skin still burns.
“Good, because I’m not disappointed.” He smirks, pushing away from the balcony and standing up. Oh, yes…cocky, and so very hot.
My hands hold onto the hand rail behind me as I keep my eyes on him. “I was named after my grandfather, Baxter Jacobs,” I explain, even though he probably doesn’t care.
“So they call you Baxter?” he offers with a smile.
“Have you met the others?” He nods to the dance floor and points at the other Interred. “I’ve not been in London for a while.”
I follow the movement before turning slightly to the right. “Yes, we moved here a few days ago.”
He stares at one of the girls on the floor, and I realize he’s looking at Ava, who is dancing with Sydney. I frown, wondering if I’ll dance at all tonight before they stick me in a coffin. The thought makes me shudder.
To distract myself, I steal another glance at Jack. His features are similar to Declan’s, I realize. Model looks must run in the family. High cheekbones, perfect lips, dimples. Their eyes, however, are as different as night and day. Where Declan’s eyes are tempestuous and dark, Jack’s green eyes are playful and warm.
“That’s a pretty little dress you’ve got on,” he says. As I arch an eyebrow, he extends his hand toward me. “Shall we dance?”
My eyes scan the dance floor. “Sure.” I beam at him, thankful that I won’t be the only person not dancing tonight.
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