Candela's p.o.v

I straightened my shoulder and pushed off from the wall, my gaze on his.

God help me, he looked really good.

The kind of good that made my insides twist with irritation. His dark hair was slicked back in that effortless way, his black shirt clung to his chest, and the faintest shadow of stubble dusted his jaw. His eyes, dark and unreadable, skimmed over me slowly, lingering at my neckline for a second longer than necessary.

I refused to react. Acting like his ...