Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1) (4 page)

“
Hei hei
.” Henrik nodded at me. “Sorry
about Miss Brynn. If you think that was bad, you should see her
drive.”

“Oh, stop it.” Brynn swatted at Henrik. “I
haven’t seen you for days. Please tell me you haven’t been in front
of the TV. I promised your mom I wouldn’t let you go down the video
game vortex. Again.”

Henrik patted her arm. “So cute. You think
you could stop us.”

The way they were built, I was pretty sure a
dinosaur driving a bulldozer couldn’t stop Brynn’s buddies from
doing whatever they darn well pleased. But propriety dictated I
keep my thoughts to myself.

Brynn rolled her eyes. “Mia, these nerds are
two of my oldest friends. Henrik and I grew up next door to each
other, and I’ve known Tyr since grade school.”

I tried to picture the dynamic duo as
precocious six-year-olds, but came up short.

“Are you guys freshmen, too?” I asked.

Brynn giggled. “Henrik’s little brother
Gunnar is my year, but this guy here is an old man.”

Henrik nodded. “I just started my Master’s in
Biomechanical Engineering.”

“I’m in Engineering too.” I smiled. “So is
this your first time in the US?”

Henrik glanced at Tyr, who answered after a
pause. “We’ve visited before.”

“What are you studying?” I asked him.

“The world.” He smiled lazily. My pulse
quickened as I tried not to stare at his mouth.

Brynn rolled her eyes. “Play nice, Tyr.”

“Says the girl who just catapulted her friend
into a total stranger. You’re hardly one to talk.” Tyr raised an
eyebrow.

“No harm. No party foul.” I gingerly touched
the spot where my cheek had met Tyr’s chest bone. Then I held up my
hand. “Not even any blood.”

Brynn buried her head in her hands. “Ugh. I’m
sorry, Mia.”

I patted her back. “I’m fine, honest.”

“Let’s get you something to drink, Brynnie.
You guys want anything?” Henrik pushed his glasses up the strong
line of his nose.

“I’m good.” Tyr shook his head.

“No, thank you,” I added.

“Okay. Catch you later.” Henrik led a
beet-red Brynn into the crowd, leaving me with Hercules.

“So you’re Brynn’s roommate?” I nodded. “She
may not be very graceful, but she’s as loyal as they come.” Tyr’s
voice was as beautiful as his face. Though it had the same singsong
lilt of his Scandinavian friends, it was deep and husky—like he’d
just woken up.

Double yum.

I pushed that image out of my mind as I met
his eyes. “Y’all are great friends, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Tyr smiled. “Y’all? Are you from one
of the southern states?”

The way he said it was so precise; it was
obvious he was translating as he spoke. “No.” Heat rushed to my
cheeks. “I’m from Connecticut, but my mom grew up in Louisiana.
Some of her southern belle rubbed off.”

There was no reason to tell Tyr the drawl
only slipped out when I was really nervous. Like,
standing-in-front-of-a-movie-star-Norseman-in-the-middle-of-a-room-full-of-people-trying-not-to-pass-out
nervous. My wobbly voice and fidgety hands probably spoke volumes.
It also hadn’t escaped my notice that while we talked,
every
single female
in the room was sizing Tyr up as if he was every
bit the pinnacle of physical perfection. The looks they fired at me
weren’t nearly so charitable.

A dozen inebriated boys burst through the
front door, singing loudly. They swayed back and forth
almost
in time to their off-key tune, and as they did the
contents of their plastic cups sloshed violently. At the end of the
verse, one threw his arm into the air, sending his beer flying
across the room.

Everything moved in slow motion as I watched
the cup come straight at me. There wasn’t enough time to get out of
the way, and I stared in horror, waiting for an hour of primping
and a perfectly good cashmere sweater to be destroyed by a single
cup of beer. But Tyr swatted it out of the air as it hurtled toward
my chest, and the spray of liquid took an abrupt diversion toward
the guy standing next to us. Relief washed through me in the second
before reality set in.

Wait—did I see that right? A cup of beer
just defied the laws of physics?
I rubbed my eyes. My five days
of travel had clearly messed with my brain.

“Sorry about that,” Tyr apologized. The guy
wiped splatters of alcohol from his arm and shrugged before leaning
closer to the girl he was talking to. From the way she angled her
chest up at him, his beer-covered pants weren’t going to hurt his
chances. “
Uff da
,” Tyr muttered.

I blinked. “
Uff da
? That’s Norwegian.
I thought you were Swedish.”

“You speak Norwegian?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “But my dad’s dad
is half Norwegian, and he says that a lot.”

“Ah.” Tyr paused for a long moment. “My
friends and I speak a mash-up of the Nordic languages—more
‘Scandiwegian’ than either Norwegian or Swedish. We’re Swedish, but
we’ve spent chunks of time in both places, so our language is
across the board, you know?”

I exhaled slowly, pressing my hands against
my jeans. Between the flying beer and the multi-lingual male model
holding my attention, this entire scene was overwhelming. I needed
some breathing room.

As if he’d read my thoughts, Tyr tilted his
head, and gave me a look that was half invitation, half challenge.
“That’s about all the indoor fun I can handle for one night. Care
to join me outside?” I shot him a grateful look, and he took a step
toward the back door. “Let’s get out of here.”

I nodded.

Tyr grabbed my hand, and a pulse of heat shot
from my fingertips to my toes. Butterflies took flight somewhere
south of my navel, siphoning all the blood from my head and leaving
me with the not altogether uncomfortable feeling of floating across
the living room. Tyr was without a doubt the hottest guy I’d ever
seen, and he was holding my hand.

Holding. My. Hand.

Dear God, please don’t let me pass out. At
least let me give this guy my number first. Also, thanks for
letting me meet him on a good hair day. Xoxo, Mia.

Without a word, Tyr led me through the throng
of jostling bodies, past the speakers blaring a rock song, and out
the back door. To my credit, my feet did not betray me—I did not
trip once. My mind, however, twirled like a two-year-old in a tutu.
The backyard was quieter, with only a handful of students scattered
across the lawn. We stopped on the top of the three steps that led
from the porch to the yard. Tyr sat down. He patted the stair next
to him, and I sat to his right, wrapping my arms around my
knees.

“A little out of control in there,
ja
?” Tyr’s voice was softer now that we were away from the
music.

I nodded, then bit my lower lip. I was afraid
of what would come out of my mouth if I opened it.
Thanks for
getting me out of that nuthouse. You’re hot. You saved my favorite
sweater in a touching display of chivalry. Can I touch your
muscles? Thanks for blocking that beer. Want to make out?
The
possibilities for honesty-induced mortification were endless.

Tyr stared as I nibbled on my lip. His mouth
parted, and his eyes darkened a shade. He raised his hand as if he
was going to touch my face, then pulled it back. With a sigh, he
shifted his eyes away from my mouth.

Breathe, Ahlström. Breathe.

“So, Mia. You’re from Connecticut?” I was
grateful when Tyr tossed out a softball question.

“Yeah, a town called Buckshire. Pretty river,
lots of meadows and open space. Typical small-town America.”

“I’m new here. What does that mean?” Tyr
stared as a guy and a girl made their way across the yard.

“Just that it’s pretty old-fashioned where
I’m from. Friday-night movies in the town square, family picnics on
Sundays… my mom’s a homemaker, my dad works in finance in the city.
My brother’s a Business major at Penn State now, but when we were
younger we did everything as a family—hiking, camping, fishing,
hunting-”

“Hunting? You?” Tyr gave me a once over. “The
tiny thing wearing pearls to a college party? You know how to hold
a gun?”

I lifted my chin. “Don’t underestimate me. I
can go from makeup to mud faster than you can say ‘bless your
heart.’”

Tyr chuckled. “I’d like to see that.”

“Play your cards right, and maybe you will.”
A smug smile tugged at my lips, and I gave myself a mental high
five for finishing an entire train of thought without babbling.
Score one, Mia
.

Tyr raised one eyebrow as he leaned back on
his hands and appraised me. His gaze slid slowly down the length of
my body then moved back up, pausing a moment longer than necessary
at my chest. Heat flooded my neck at the intimacy in his stare. But
when Tyr brought his eyes up to meet mine, he didn’t look the
slightest bit guilty. Instead, he winked and shot me a rakish grin.
“Maybe I will.”

Oh my goodness gracious.
Who did this
guy think he was? And more importantly, what was I letting him do
to me? I was ninety-nine percent positive it was not appropriate to
actually
pant over a guy you just met.

Not to his face, anyway.

I unwrapped my arms from my knees and tossed
my hair over my shoulder.
Fake it till you make it
. “So
you’re from Sweden?” I leaned back, copying Tyr’s pose. I
wished
I felt as cool as he looked. “What’s that like? Lots
of polar bears? Igloos? You guys travel by dog sled?”

Tyr shook his head, amusement dancing across
his features. “You are funny.”

“That’s the rumor.”

“I moved here from Malmö. It’s a fishing
village on the southern tip of Sweden, sadly lacking in polar
bears, but attempting to make up for it with a solid nightlife and
extraordinary football club.”

“
Football
, football, or
soccer
football?”

Tyr narrowed his eyes. “Soccer football. You
realize this is the only country in the world that uses the wrong
name for the second-greatest sport in the realms.”

“Realms?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Universe,” he corrected quickly.
Must be
a translation thing
.

“What’s the first greatest sport?”

“Rugby.” Tyr said it as if it were
obvious.

“That’s a big deal in my hometown too. The
local high school was county champion three years running.”

“So you understand.”

“Not really. I went to Tottenham, the girls’
boarding school two towns over. We didn’t play rugby, but we did a
lot of skiing. You
do
have that in Sweden, right?”

“
Ja
. The polar bears operate our chair
lifts.”

“Ha.” I nudged Tyr with my knee. The small
contact sent a burst of heat all the way to my toes, and I quickly
pulled away. It would be harder to keep my cool if I melted into a
hormone-induced puddle.

“So you ski?” Tyr asked. I forced myself to
stare into his bottomless eyes, the ones that were studying me so
intently they might have been trying to see through my soul.

“Um, yes. My team was state champion in Super
G last year.” Super G—the race faster than Giant Slalom, but with
more gates than Downhill—was my event of choice. As much as I liked
control, I liked speed more. “My boarding school was close to a
half-decent mountain, so we’d run gates locally during the week.
But we’d head to Vermont or New Hampshire for the weekends we
wanted to
really
ski. You can’t beat bulletproof-ice for
training, you know?”

“You competed?” The surprise on Tyr’s face
was as comical as it was insulting.

“I was captain and dry-land training coach,
two years running.” I resisted the urge to tell him how many
pull-ups I could do. He obviously thought I was a total maladroit.
After all, I
had
run into him…

“And you did Super G?” There it was again—the
too-intense stare, as if he was trying to read my mind. “I owe you
an apology; I took you for a princess.”

“Why?” Between my flaming cheeks and awkward
babbling, there wasn’t much regal about me right now.

“Fancy shoes, cashmere sweater, pearls? You
seem like the kind of girl the birds and bunnies follow around the
forest, singing songs.”

“You got your entire understanding of
American culture from animated films, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Tyr’s gorgeous smile brought a fresh
wave of heat to my cheeks. I tilted my head back and held his gaze,
ignoring the urge to hide behind my hair. “Super G’s tough. You
must have taken a lot of falls.”

“I took a few. But the birds and bunnies
diverted a lot of the snow snakes for me.”

“Funny. Just for that I’m calling you
prinsessa
.”

“Do I get to make up a name for you?” I
asked.

“Nope.”

“That hardly seems fair.”

“Life’s not fair.” Tyr kept his voice even,
but his jaw clenched, lending an edge to his already intimidating
presence. He had an intensity bubbling just beneath the surface
that made me wonder what exactly he’d been doing back in that
Swedish fishing village. Brynn had warned him to play nice—what did
that mean? Before I could wander too far down that trail of
thought, Tyr’s mouth curled up in a half-smile, and my brain went
quiet.

God, he was beautiful.

He leaned over so his face was right next to
mine, and my heart beat a frantic rhythm. My breath shallowed to
sharp gasps. If this kept up I was going to black out. Death by
nervous flirting.

“Are you in the same program as Henrik?” I
blurted.

“I’m not in school. I’m just tagging along.”
He ran a hand through his hair and quickly added, “So Engineering
for you?”

He was avoiding the question? Sensing his
discomfort made me feel a little better. Maybe he was as nervous as
me.

I nodded, feeling braver. “I like structure.
I like when things add up.”