The 18th Shade Of Summer (Fractured Script Series #1)

CHAPTER 09

The world seemed to pause, and even the noise around me lowered to a hush as the door creaked open. The first thing I saw was an eye—sharp and alert. Then the sunlight spilled across his face, revealing light brown irises that caught the light like glass.

I froze. Even as my mind screamed to move, to speak, my body didn't respond. It was as if my breath had been pulled out of me.

My eyes scanned his face carefully, almost reverently. Sharp eyes beneath messy, wavy dark hair. A fine jawline, a pointed nose, and naturally curved red lips. He was tall, maybe around 5'11", which meant I had to tilt my head slightly to meet his gaze. He wore a loose white shirt, plain and simple, but it hugged just enough of his frame to hint at his build—lean, defined, not overly muscular, but far from frail.

'I doubt he's just eighteen.'

Then he smiled. His eyes crinkled shut, softening all those sharp features. There was something undeniably Japanese about his face, something familiar in the way his lips tilted upward with ease. He looked younger when he smiled—playful, even a little childish.

The golden morning sunlight hit me then, warming my cheeks and making the moment feel like one of those slow-burn dramas I'd watched except this time, the setting wasn't a school courtyard, but the doorway of my own apartment.

"Elaine," he said, and I clutched the strap of my sling bag tighter. His voice had that low, lazy texture, the kind that stays in your head longer than it should. And that boxy smile—it completely disarmed me. I looked down, feeling like I'd stared too long into something I shouldn't have.

"You look good."

The words hit me like a gust of wind. My cheeks flared. I could feel the warmth rising to my ears, and for once, I wished I could hide under something. Shyness wasn't part of the plan today. I wasn't supposed to be this flustered.

"Oh, you look red—"

"It's just makeup!" I blurted, cutting him off before he could make it worse. He chuckled, and for a second, I hated how easily that sound reached me. I dared to glance back up at him. "Why? Is it too much?"

Without waiting for his answer, I reached into my bag and pulled out a mirror, staring at my reflection. It wasn't the blush that made me this red. It was him.

"Yeah, I think it's the makeup," he said with a laugh.

I turned around, closed my eyes, and let out a sigh. I needed to calm down. My heart was racing, my cheeks on fire, and the more I tried to act normal, the more my nerves betrayed me.

After a few seconds of quiet internal screaming, I managed to face him again, forcing a smile—crooked, awkward, unsure. "So... where are we heading?"

He blinked. "Uh... at..." He trailed off, eyes drifting as he tried to recall something.

I blinked too. Wait, he doesn't have a plan?

"There's a restaurant a few blocks from the department store I work at... or maybe the park near school?" I offered. But instead of replying right away, he just smiled again.

'Why am I even telling him where the places are? I'm sure he knows them better than I do.'

"Sure, let's eat first," he finally said, stepping out as I moved aside to let him pass. He pulled the door gently behind him, locking us into whatever this day might bring.

I looked down. "You're not going to wear any shoes or slippers?"

He paused, glancing at his bare feet like he'd only now realized it. "Uh—haha. No need. People here are used to seeing me barefoot."