Attest (Centrifuge Duet Book 2)(44)
I’m stunned when he grabs my upper arm with firm fingers to prevent me from leaving.
“You’re Madelaine O’Brien, aren’t you?” he asks, his eyes staring straight into mine.
His penetrating gaze feels like he’s trying to delve into the inner recesses of my mind. I don’t examine why, but it makes me uncomfortable, so I shrug my arm from his tighter-than-necessary grip. Letting go with obvious reluctance, he shoots me a quizzical glance.
After I nod my head that he has my name right, he continues. “You’re Benji’s sister?”
“That's me. I prefer to be called Maddi, though,” I tell him, straight-away.
I hate being called Madelaine. The only time I hear my full name is when I’m in trouble—Wendy being the only exception since she refuses to shorten anyone's name.
“I’m actually his twin, even though no one can tell.” I laugh.
It's true. My twin is as dark as I am fair. We look almost nothing alike.
It doesn't surprise me that Brendan knows me as Benji’s sister. Benji’s a talented Australian Football League player, apparently destined to follow in our father’s footsteps. Dad played at State level, never quite making it to the big time, and he's pretty tough on Benji because of it. He believes that Benji will surpass him and play at the national level if he knuckles down and quits partying. My twin’s something of a local legend—where all the girls want him and all the boys want to be his friend.
By comparison, I'm the studious sprinter who keeps to her family and her small group of friends. No one outside of my family wants anything from me, and that's the way I like it.
“I’m Brendan Taylor. I’ve seen you around, but you don’t come to parties like Benji does, so I’ve never officially met you. Even though I've been dying to.”
He holds his hand out for me to shake, a big sexy grin on his face. Is he flirting with me? I hope so because he’s hot as sin. His easy charm brings a smile to my face. Taking his offered hand, I shake it. The charge that I felt when he held my waist flares again, so I try to drop his hand the second it’s polite. He refuses to let go, so I attempt to brazen out the situation by continuing our conversation as if it isn't awkward standing here holding hands when we've only just met.
“Nice to officially meet you. I don’t really party that often. I’m surprised you’re at the same parties as Benji. Aren’t you a little old for that scene?” The second the words are out of my mouth, I cringe. I couldn’t sound more judgemental and prudish if I tried. Heat travels up my neck, and I turn red in front of the one man I don’t want to.
He laughs at me. “Yes, I suppose I am. I’m twenty-two. There’s not much for me to do around here since I’ve finished university. I actually organise most of the parties now that I’m living back here full time. You should come to the next one. I'll look after you any time you want. Give you anything you want.”
He winks at me, my face heating further. I'm not sure if I'm reading something into his words, but innuendo seems to be lacing his offer.
“I'll keep that in mind,” I tell him, deciding to take his words at face value. “Anyhow, it was nice to meet you, but I need to get going. It’s nearly midnight and I want to catch up with my friends before the fireworks.”
I really don't care about the fireworks. I need to get away from Brendan and my weird reaction to him. Tugging my hand from his, I don’t stop this time until he lets go. Before he does, he plants a kiss over my knuckles, finishing with a small bow.
Holy hell, I think he is flirting with me.
“It was a pleasure having you run into me,” he teases before he continues in a voice that’s deeper and smoother than usual. “I really hope you take me up on my offer. I think we could have a lot of fun together.”
Plastering a fake smile on my face, I pretend I still possess some composure. I’m still not certain if he’s flirting or being overly friendly. It really irks me that I’m behaving like this around him. Normally I’m cool, calm, and collected around the opposite gender, which would be expected considering I’ve grown up surrounded by them, but I can't get a read on Brendan's intentions.
“Have a good night, Brendan,” I say my goodbye, effectively ending the conversation.
I walk off toward the restrooms, and it takes all of my effort not to turn back around to see if he’s watching me.
The empty restroom offers me refuge from the outside world, and time to get my shit back together. After doing my business, I check my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands. I find that I’m a little flushed and that a lock of my hair has come loose from the messy bun on the top of my head. Otherwise, I look as good as I can.
Brendan has me confused, but I file it away to think about another time. Distractions are not something I need. I’m one-eyed about my future, wanting to become a criminal defence attorney after I finish school next year—much to my dad’s amusement—so I spend most of my free time studying.
I’ve seen Brendan around over the years, finding him really attractive even though he always has a different girl hanging off of him. Everyone knows that he doesn't date, preferring to add notches to his bedhead. Having never even been on a date before, I'm definitely not interested in becoming just one of his girls. I highly doubt I'll be taking him up on his offer, platonic or not.