He takes a sip of coffee, which must be stone cold by now, and his eyes meet mine over the rim of his cup.
They watch my every move, from my fingers curling nervously around my own empty cup, to the way I nervously shove a lock of hair behind my ear.
There's something about the look in them that drives me crazy. The way he watches and observes as if nothing gets by him.
"You've no idea, how many times I've heard that line....'ello darlin'..."
He mimics Damon in an absurd accent, which makes me giggle in spite of the fact you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.
And I wish I could swallow my own tongue, because Brett isn't laughing. He still looks as serious as a heart attack.
"It works, every time. Though it never really bothered me until he used it on you, and when I saw you being
