Definitely, Maybe in Love by Ophelia London Read Free Book Online

floor while others took their empty places. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Knightly shrink back, but only to throw his cup in a trash can. Then he was right back at my side.
    “This is a good song,” he said, maybe noticing my unwavering focus on the couples in front of us. “Do you like it?”
    “Not particularly. I don’t dance to men.”
    “Excuse me?”
    Gah. I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. My self-inflicted music policy had been necessary in order to re-hone my focus, but a pain to explain. It wasn’t like I was anti-men—on the contrary! I was a complete sucker for a good love song, often to the point of distraction. I could waste away countless hours listening to the cheesiest Bruno Mars ballad while thinking about some guy. But right along with braiding my hair, changing my major, and painting my first picket sign, I put myself on a chick-only music regimen. Not having that added distraction was kind of empowering. But I wasn’t about to explain that to a total stranger in the middle of a street party.
    “I don’t dance to male singers,” I said.
    Knightly blinked. “Oh.” He looked a little relieved, then his face cracked into what might have been a smile, little lines crinkling the sides of his dark eyes.
    “Something funny?” I asked, attempting to block out the fact that his smile brought unexpected warmth to his face.
    “Um, absurdly funny. I thought you said you don’t dance with men.”
    “Oh.” I couldn’t help exhaling a laugh at his mistake.
    “Maybe when the song changes, we should go out there.” His voice was confident yet inquiring, his expression serious in a teasing way. The whole picture was very…I don’t know. Sexy? “But only if the song is lacking in masculine presence, of course.”
    I liked the elevated way he spoke. Dang him. Here at Stanford, my use of common colloquialisms made me ashamed to be among other intellectuals. Damn it all to hell that he used better grammar than I did.
    “Why would I want to dance?” I asked.
    He seemed amused by my question. “Appears to be the universal and conforming ritual at the moment.”
    “I’m not a conformist.”
    “Obviously,” he shot back. I noticed that his brown eyes had flecks of gold in them. And were those freckles on his nose? Good gracious.
    Fairy lights blinked behind him like stars; the night breeze blew through his curly hair. The guy looked like a freaking Calvin Klein model holding a pose. I could handle ogling at his hotness from a safe distance out Julia’s window, but honestly, it was unsettling being face to face. What was more unnerving was the way he was watching me, raptly, like I was the only person in a sea of hundreds.
    When he leaned toward me, my shoulders tensed, causing a few braids to tumble free. His gaze shot to my hair.
    “Careful,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you too close to my snakes.” I gave him a look. “They bite.”
    In my not-so-subtle way, I’d broached the subject calmly, opening the door for him to apologize for what he knew I’d overheard. Even though there was no way he could explain away the things he’d said, nonetheless, I was morbidly curious to hear his rationalization.
    “I like snakes,” he said matter-of-factly.
    “Ha.” I rolled my eyes. “Sure ya do.”
    “And I happen to enjoy a good bite.”
    I blinked, but his gaze remained fixed on me, the intensity of his dark eyes making my stomach flutter. I was not about to fall for this guy’s game, even if it was completely original.
    He moved closer. “Dance with me.”
    “I didn’t come here to dance.”
    “You were earlier.”
    I remembered meeting his eyes briefly when I’d been on the floor with Alex.
    “You can do better than him,” he said, evidently recalling the same moment. “And I’d steer clear from him if I were you.”
    My mouth fell open.
    “Dance with me,” he repeated before I had the chance to tell him off.
    I almost laughed. “No.”
    “Why?” His