He leads me through the long hallway, stopping a few times to greet a few people and acknowledge waves from several with a nod of his head.

 

I can’t help but notice several women stare at him as we walk by, their eyes roaming over him seductively in an obvious show of lust and wanting. Their looks are admiring and appraising…until their attention shifts to me.

 

Their eyes grace me with scowls and glares, as if they’d like nothing more than for me to shrivel up and disappear into thin air.

 

I swear, if eyes could kill, I’d have died, resurrected, died and resurrected, and died again at least twenty times over in under five minutes.

 

I really don’t get it. They have no reason whatsoever to glare or be mad at me. I’m not his woman. This is just a misunderstanding.

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