Tattoos: COMPLETED ✔

Chapter 1

"One date," he pleads, leaning his lanky frame against the bookshelf as he watches me restock books, probably thinking that if he annoys me enough, I'll say yes.

Asher Green is one of those guys that can never seem to take a hint. He's in one of business class at NYU, and has been trying to get me to go out with him since the beginning of semester. He's cute and all with his short brown hair and dimpled smile, but he's not my type, and if I'm being honest I haven't found a guy that has been "my type" in a while.

"I'm not looking for anything right now," I tell him mindlessly as I try to squeeze a book called "Divergent" into a tiny space.

I see him cross his arms out of the corner of my eye. "I'm not either, but that doesn't mean we can't go out as friends."

He sounds sincere, but I know better: if he wasn't looking for anything, he wouldn't be trying so hard to get me to go out with him, even if he wanted to be just friends.

"I'm really busy this month," I lie.

"You can't spare an hour of your time to go get dinner?" He sounds incredulous.

I ignore him and pretend to be busy with putting away these books, as if working part time at a bookstore for minimum wage takes my full concentration. Don't get me wrong though, I love my job. I get to be surround by stuff that I love, and my boss is amazing, which can't be said by most college students.

Dave, the owner of this cute little bookstore, is old and grey and frail, but he couldn't be nicer. He practically gave me this job on the spot when I sat down for an interview. I was recently fired from from a bakery down the street fot "expense" reasons, but we all know it was because I couldn't cook worth a shit.

"I'm trying to work," I tell him, avoiding his question.

He sighs, and I can tell he's starting to get frustrated. When I turns around, the stack of books in my arms slightly smaller, I feel his hand wrap around my wrist.

"Wait-" he says, but I shake off his hold.

Just when I think I'll never be able to get away from him, his phone rings.

I walk quickly away while he's distracted. I take a sharp corner and run smack into a wall, the books going everywhere.

"Shit," I curse as they tumble out of my hands and land in a messy pile on the floor.

I squat down to pick them up, when I come face to face with a pair of shiny black dress shoes. I realize I didn't run into a wall, but a person. I glance up and gape at the man standing before me. He's wearing an expensive pair of black slacks and a suit jacket that probably cost more than my rent. The fitted button up shirt under his jacket makes his toned body apparent, and tells me he's a regular at the gym.

My gaze shifts to his face, and my eyes widen as I take in his sinfully handsome face. His jaw is slightly scruffy, like he didn't shave this morning, and it makes me imagine what it would feel like against me... down there. I blush and try to shake away those thoughts, but to no avail; this man just screams sex.

His lips look very soft and full, and I'm suprised when I find myslef wanting to kiss him. I meet his eyes, and I'm shocked by how blue they are and how intense. I know I should run far away from this man, knowing that pretty and rich are never a good combination, but the way he sets my insides on fire from just a look, makes me hesitate.

I notice everything about him looks perfect and carefully in line.... except for his hair. It's an unruly mass of blond curls. It looks like he woke up this morning, ran a hand through it, and called it good. And it does look good. It looks very good.

I realize he's staring down at me from his 6'3 height, the ends of his lips twitching upward, as if trying to keep from smiling. His voice is deep and slightly teasing when he says, "That's very rude. Cussing at a customer, don't you think?" I can't seem to get my mouth to work, so I continue staring at him like an idiot. "It's even ruder to stare." His barely there smile truns into a smirk when I blush.

He abruptly squats down, so he's right in front of me, his minty breath washing over me. "Let me help you with these books." He starts picking them up in an orderly fashion and hands them to me, clearly not minding our proximity.

Mmm, he smells so good. He's a mix between mint, soap, and a hint of something else I can't quite place.

His hand brushes across my knee when he pulls away and smiles, showing off a perfect set of teeth. Standing, he helps me up by placing a gentle but sturdy hand on my elbow. I feel small standing next to him, and I can't help but feel vulnerable by the way he towers over me.

When I tear my gaze away from him and look down at the books in my arms, I'm suddenly snapped out of my haze, and my manners return. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that; I was the one who ran into you."

He shakes his head. "It's no problem, but can I ask why you were running?" He looks slightly amused when he asks this, the corners of his lips turning up, but most of all, he looks mildly curious.

I roll my eyes just thinking about Asher. "A guy," I plainly state.

His curious look quickly turns into... anger? Dissapointment? I can't tell.

"Your boyfriend?"

I scoff before shaking my head. "Not exactly," I mumble.

He frowns at me and says something under his breath that I can't make out.

"What?"

An expressionless mask takes over his face, and he quickly says, "I've got to go, but it was nice meeting you..."

"Jasmine."

He licks his bottom lip before saying, "It was nice seeing meeting you, Jasmine." The way he smiles when he says my name, makes me feel like he's talking about an inside joke that I'm not apart of.

He takes one last look at me before briskly walking away. With his long legs, it doesn't take long before I can no longer see him.

I realize with sudden disappointment that he didn't tell me his name. I then start to wonder why the hell a guy like him was doing at a book store, and why was he wearing a suit on a Sunday morning? I glance around and notice I'm in the literature section. And he likes to read classic novels? Who the hell is this guy?