Page 5 of Don't Think

My cart slams into something solid. Hard enough that it bounces back and knocks into my gut.

I freeze, squeezing my eyes shut as heat crawls up the back of my neck and flushes my face. Please let that be a shelf, not a person. Please, please, please.

When I crack one eye open, I’m met with a pair of black cut-off shorts and a silver chain dangling from the pocket.

Yup. Definitely a person.

Way to go, Allie. First day in the big city, and you’re already assaulting strangers.

I slowly drag my gaze up, just in time to see the guy turn his head slightly. Not enough to read his expression, but enough to know I’ve definitely slammed into the poor guy’s ankle.

If it were me, I’d bepissed.

I can’t tear my eyes away, even though my heart’s screaming at me to run and hide. But the way his black T-shirt pulls tight across his arms has me frozen in place. And the tattoos peeking under the sleeve?

They almost look… familiar.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I blurt, yanking my cart back. “Are you okay?”

His shirt shifts as he turns fully around, and my stomach drops. Goose bumps spread across my arms as my eyes lock onto his—the exact shade of blue I know all too well from hours of scrolling through makeshift music videos.

Nora always assumed I was obsessed with his muscles, but it was his eyes I secretly wanted to drown in. And now, with his backward baseball cap and short, brown hair peeking out beneath it, they’re perfectly visible and just as devastatingly gorgeous in person. I feel like I might actually melt into the shiny linoleum. With my shame and all its glory.

“Oh, it’s no worries,” he says, his voice smooth with a Welsh accent that should come with some sort of warning sign. “I was basically an open target, just standing here.”

That accent?Easilytwenty times hotter in person. Which only makes this situation a hundred times more awkward, since I suddenly forget how to speak. Instead, I just stand there, blinking up at him like I’ve never seen a human being before… or like I’ve forgotten how to function like one myself.

He’s even taller than I expected—definitely over six feet—and when his eyes meet mine again, he gives me a soft smile that somehow quiets every spiraling thought in my head.

“It looks like we both had more important things on our minds,” he says, shifting his weight to the other leg. Probably because I just about broke his damn ankle with ashopping cart.

I don’t say anything at first, but his quiet chuckle tells me that the look on my face must say plenty. He bites back a smirk and nods toward the shelves of wine that just witnessed me assault the lead singer of my favorite band.

Say something, Allie. Just be normal for once.

I shake my head and let out a nervous laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, uh… definitely a Friday night essential.”

He nods, still watching me. “So, which one’s your favorite?”

My brain short-circuits. “I’m sorry, my favorite?” I echo, brows pulling together.

He gestures again to the display. “Wine,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips like he’s tryingreallyhard not to laugh.

“Oh!” I say, finally putting two and two together.

God, pull yourself together, Allie.

My eyes land on my go-to bottle of pink Moscato, and I carefully pluck it from the shelf, holding it up like I’m presenting it on a shopping channel. “Definitely this one. It’s the perfectbalance of fruit and alcohol,” I say with a smile, then gently place it in my cart. “What about you?”

He smiles, then scans the shelves, clicking his tongue softly against his teeth as he searches. When his eyes land on the one he wants, he grabs it easily and holds up a bottle of merlot, mimicking my earlier move.

“Can’t go wrong with a solid red,” he says proudly.

Ah. There it is. His one flaw. You can’t write beautiful musicandhave good taste in wine. That’s just being greedy.

I scrunch my nose, letting out a soft laugh. “You just haven’t had the right stuff. Try the Moscato,” I say, nodding toward the bottle in my cart.

He chuckles, nodding along. “I’ll have to give it a try. Thanks for the tip...” He pauses, lifting a brow.