Chapter Two

We arrived at the airport after what felt like an hour. By the time the taxi dropped us, my mom was filled with nerves and frantic energy.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” my mother said, barely glancing over her shoulder as she hurried toward the first class service counter. She was already practicing her most charming smile for the receptionist.

I stayed exactly where she left me, clutching the handle of my carry-on bag, trying my best to disappear into the crowded airport terminal. The place was packed, and I hated tight spaces. It always made me feel like the walls were closing in on me.

Suddenly, a heavy presence loomed directly behind me. A large, warm shadow blocked out the bright airport lights, way too close for comfort. In a split second, I felt a hand brush firmly against my hip.

My heart panicked. My body moved entirely on instinct.

I spun around and swung my hand forward with everything I had.

Smack!!

The sharp, stinging sound of my palm hitting his cheek cracked through the air.

Gasping followed instantly. Nearby travelers stopped dead in their tracks, turning to stare in our direction nervously. People whispered, looked back and forth between us, entirely unsure if this was a movie scene being shot or reality.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I looked at the stranger I had just slapped. My mother was still at the counter, completely oblivious to the scene that just took place.

But the boy in front of me was very real. And he was terrifying.

He was breathtakingly beautiful, but in a dangerous and intimidating way. He had messy jet black hair and stood at probably 6’3ft, completely swallowing up my vision and making me feel incredibly small. He wore an oversized athletic jersey for some kind of sport, the number on it “66.” I wasn’t a sport person at all, I had no clue which sport or team he belonged to.

But it was his eyes that truly made my blood run cold. They were dark, piercing blue—like a deadly sea that threatens to drown sailors in the middle of the night.

Right now, those dark eyes were locked on me. Unmoving. Scanning through me.

“I said,” I attacked, my voice coming out much louder than I actually felt inside, “don’t touch me!”

A beat passed.

Then another.

The stranger didn’t yell. He didn’t even flinch at the red mark spreading across his jaw. Slowly, intentionally, he lifted his hands—showing they were completely—and tilted his head just enough to glance down at the boarding pass clutched in his fist.

“You dropped this,” he said. His voice was a deep, smooth rumble.

He held up the piece of paper. He didn’t read my first name. Instead those dark blue eyes landed directly on my middle name printed bold. “Snow.”

“I—“ my words hooked directly instantly in my throat. My face burned with sudden embarrassment. Apologies didn’t come easy for me, especially when my heart was still hammering against my ribs. “You…you were too close.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn’t a warm or friendly smile. It was something much more darker.

“In crowded places,” he said, stepping even closer anyway, his massive presence completely erasing the small gap left between us, “people tend to be.”

I instantly scrambled to find my footing, forcing my chin up as I tried to be defensive. I wasn’t about to let this giant make me feel like a fool even if I was completely wrong.

“Well, normally people usually call out or tap a shoulder,” I snapped back, crossing my arms over my chest like a shield. My voice trembled slightly, but I forced as much bite into it as I could muster. “They don’t just creep up behind someone and hover them. You practically invaded my personal space.”

He didn’t say another word. He just stood there for a long, heavy second, his dark blue eyes tracking the defensive flare in my expression. The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, until he slowly reached out and held the boarding pass toward me.

I snatched it out of his fingers, careful not to let our skin brush again.

Without a single glance back or change in his dark expression, he turned on his heel. The back of his jersey, with a bold number 66 stamped across the fabric, moved away from me as he effortlessly cut through the whispering crowd and disappeared toward the VIP gates.

What a pervert, I thought, my heart still pounding furiously against my ribs. My palm felt hot and itchy from the impact of the slap. He had crept up so close on purpose, I just knew it.

“Hattie? Who were you talking to just now?”

My mother’s voice shattered my thoughts, making me jump. She walked back over me, her designer purse swinging from her arm and a slight frown puckering her forehead as she looked at the lingering travelers who were still staring at our direction.

“Nobody,” I lied quickly, stuffing my crumpled boarding pass deep down my jacket to hide my shaking my hands. “Just someone irrelevant.”

My mother didn’t say much right away. She just narrowed her eyes, staring at me for a long quiet moment like she was trying to read through my bad acting. She looked past my shoulder towards the VIP line, then back down at my flushed face.

Fortunately, her mind was too occupied with her shiny new life to dig any deeper. She let out a small huff and checked her expensive watch.

“Whatever it is, drop it,” she said, her voice dropping into that familiar, hurried tone. “Come on, our flight section would be announced soon. We cannot be late to meet James.

I nodded numbly, letting her lead the way toward the gate. But as we walked, my thoughts kept drifting back to those deadly eyes and cold smirk that had completely turned my world upside down in a matter of seconds.

New York was a massive city. I just hoped it was big enough to make sure I never crossed paths with that arrogant jersey-wearing giant ever again.