Sparked (city2city: Hollywood) Read Online Free Page A

them palm to palm. “ Oh .” It was more sound than word, and more breath than sound, and he didn’t want her to say anything else, because he heard everything he needed to hear in her voice.
    I’m sorry , that breathless “oh” said. I’m so, so sorry .
    See, he’d always been good at listening.
    Giving in to instinct was easy. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he lifted their joined hands, pressing his lips to the back of hers, his bravery returned. “Thank you,” he whispered, no longer in the mood to question why she was talking to him. In the space of a few minutes, he’d bought into the possibility that, yeah, a girl that gorgeous could absolutely be looking at him as she was, as if she too felt the same prickle on her nape and spark in her veins he was feeling right this second.  
    He wasn’t going to let go of her hand, he decided as he squeezed her fingers. Letting go of her wasn’t an option. “You said you’re an actress?”
    “I am. My first professional play actually just closed in the West End.” She didn’t make any move to disentangle her hand from his, he noted, with no small amount of pride.
    “Were you the star?”
    Blushing, she shook her head. “Supporting role.” She shifted to lean more heavily against his arm.
    There went those sparks again. He leaned into her, as well, dipping his head toward her—not to kiss, though of course he wouldn’t mind kissing her, but to get closer. Warm, smiling Sadie, who was starting to make him rethink his stance on the quality of his Christmas Eve. “You’ll be a star someday. I can tell.”  
    She laughed at him, though he didn’t mind, because that laugh was like no other sound he’d heard in his life. Light and melodic and filled to the brim with a happiness that buzzed in his brain until his senses went all trippy and loose.
    The grin stretching his face stayed in place for the next forty-seven minutes as they exchanged murmured revelations, tidbits of their lives and souls. By the time the final stop at King’s Cross station in London was announced, it felt as though more than just their fingers were intertwined. It was with great reluctance that he disentangled their hands, stepping out into the aisle to allow her to precede him off the train.
    Standing in the enclosed space of the car, he stared down at the top of her head, covered in ivory knit, and was struck again at how small she was—a foot shorter than him, at least. He’d never felt more aware of the cumbersome size of his body. He was always bumping into furniture or tripping on the stairs or, as evidenced tonight in the first-class car, hitting his head on all manner of low-hanging things. He and Jon had sprouted into would-be high school basketball stars at age fourteen, but while his brother had embraced athleticism, Ryan had diverged into academic decathlon.
    Their parents had never missed a single competition, nor had they missed a single one of Jon’s games.  
    A pang, stronger than the pangs he had experienced in the months since his parents’ death, rippled through his chest at the memory, and he blinked away the stinging in the corners of his eyes. He would not cry in front of pretty little Sadie. He would not .  
    Hefting the duffle over his shoulder, he followed her through the car, out the door and onto the platform, gaze locked on the collar of her purple coat peeking through that long fall of straight ebony hair.  
    Chill air swirled around them as Sadie turned to face him, fingers tightening on the strap of her purse, expression somber as dark, dark eyes met his. “So…this is the end of the line.”
    “I—” There was no explaining this connection, Ryan realized. That she was beautiful was almost negligible next to the bright light living inside her. She smiled at him. She listened to him. She comforted him when he was nothing more than a stranger. Never in his life had he met someone whose goodness glowed through her whole body,