Chapter 11
Just like Danté had promised, he came to the shop the next day right when my shift was about to end. He wore simple jeans and a black knitted sweater, and even so, he looked like he had walked out of one of my dreams. Which he probably had. I still couldn’t believe that we were going to go to a wedding together. And if he looked so good in plain clothes, then my little heart wasn’t ready for Danté in a tux.
“Hey, Squirrel. Are you ready?”
I glanced at the clock. Still five minutes to go. Chloe shooed me away.
“It’s alright. You can go.”
I quickly went to the locker room and took off my apron and blue shirt. Then put on some perfume before heading back to the front of the shop with my bag and jacket.
“So, do you want to drink a coffee here, or go somewhere else?” I asked.
“Well, the coffee here is way better. But if you’re tired of always being here, I am up for anything.”
“Agreed, our coffee is the best.”
In the end, we settled into one of our own booths. It was weird to have Chloe bringing us our drinks. Once she was back behind the counter, Danté leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.
“So, Squirrel, what’s your story?”
I looked up from my coffee.
“My story?” I asked dumbly.
Was I supposed to tell him how I got bitten by a genetically engineered spider and was now superhuman? I had been bitten by a spider a few weeks back. Unfortunately, when I had gone to the gym to lift weights, it had been clear I still wasn’t about to become a hero.
“Why do you want to be a dietitian?”
Oh right.
“Because I love food.”
As far as I could remember, I had always wanted to do something with food. Although at first, I had wanted to have a cupcake and macarons shop. Which was still something I intended on doing one day, just not as a full-time job. Danté raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced.
“That’s it?”
How had he known? I took a sip from my latte.
“And because I want other people to have a fair chance at loving food the same way.”
In the way his gaze became heavy, I knew he understood. His features softened as he laid his hands on the table.
“Who?”
I didn’t mind talking about it; I just avoided it because people always saw it as a sob story. The thing is, every family has a sob story, and ours has a happy ending, so why hide the truth?
“My older sister Eleanor had an eating disorder when she was a teenager. She struggled with it for years. It’s under control now, so there is no need to worry. But where I’ve always seen food as something that makes me happy, she saw it as a struggle and something that would hurt her. And I just want to be able to help people like her enjoy eating without the guilt.”
Danté hummed in understanding. There was a calmness about him that felt nice. Danté didn’t comment on how sad it was, just like he didn’t brush it aside as if it were nothing. He just waited for me to decide if I wanted to continue that conversation. I took another sip from my drink, and he nodded without pushing it any further. I hadn’t been able to help Eleanor, because I was thirteen when she had been diagnosed. Seeing her body turn into a skeleton had been a nightmare. One that still haunted my parents and one that had given me a purpose. Hopefully, I could help other Eleanors who needed to learn how to accept themselves and the food they had to take in.
“That’s valid. What’s your favourite food?”
“Like most Belgians, fries,” I admitted.
“Friet met mayonnaise?”
I made a gagging noise. Chloe would smack me for my lack of manners. I just couldn’t help it.
“Oh yuck! I hate mayo.”
Danté placed a hand on his heart, face contorted in fake shock. “Excuse you?! How could you want to help people love food and hate mayo at the same time?”
Someone turned around at his suddenly loud voice. I giggled.
“Hey listen, I never said that I had good taste.”
“Unbelievable. I feel personally attacked.”
I leaned over the table like I was going to tell him a secret. “Wanna know something more? I don’t like beer either.”
Danté threw his used napkin on his empty plate, completely done. “Are you even human?”
He poked my nose, and I made a weird cracking noise with my mouth.
“Oh no. I am an alien trying to trick you into believing that I am human.”
“Ah yes, that explains the green shine of your skin. Here I thought it was because you only eat greens.”
“Asshole.”
“Only for you, Squirrel,” he replied, wiggling his left eyebrow.
I hid my smile behind my mug.
“And what’s your story?” I asked.
“Oh, mine is not half as interesting. One day, my grandma had to babysit me, but she had to go to the therapist, so I had to accompany her. For some reason, I was fascinated. And that’s how I became one myself.”
“Because you love to massage grannies?”
“I prefer massaging pretty women.”
I rolled my eyes at that. Men . “Of course, you would.”
Danté shook his head. “Don’t even think that. I would never do anything with a patient.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“So you really don’t like to massage grannies?”
His laugh was easy, and I found myself laughing back. Oh, why hadn’t I asked him out for a coffee earlier?
“No, I do like to massage grannies. They are the easiest ones to please. But I prefer cracking bodies to massaging. It’s more fun.”
Something told me Danté was a favourite with grannies. I could practically see them pinch his cheeks after a massage before leaving the medical practice. I wondered if they even offered him those old sticky lollipops they always have in their handbags.
“So, that means I can’t ask you for a massage then?”
Danté leaned back in his chair. “How about I crack your neck instead?”
“Why would you crack my neck?” I asked, panicked.
I suddenly felt very uneasy. Never had I had to go to a physiotherapist. I didn’t even have to go to the doctor once a year because I rarely got sick. And this dude wanted to crack my freaking spine?
“I am sure it’s stuck in some areas,” he continued.
“How would you know?”
Was I walking with a hunched back? Was there something bad in my posture? Danté smiled.
“Stop stressing. Most students have their neck or back that needs to be cracked at some point. May I?”
“Wait, you want to do this here?”
He nodded. I looked around. Most of the café was empty, except for an elderly couple and a student sipping coffee while working away on her laptop.
“I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?”
Did I? I found myself nodding before I even thought it through. Danté positioned himself behind me. I saw Chloe looking at me weirdly, and I just shrugged. What could I even say? He kneaded my neck and shoulders. His fingers trailed down my spine, his touch gentle. Danté wrapped his arm around my face and positioned the other hand on my shoulder. The skin of his hand felt soft against my cheek.
“I hate pumpkin spice,” he said, still holding my head.
Call me basic, but I was an advocate for pumpkin spice. It didn’t matter if it was in coffee, in cakes, or even scented candles.
“How could you hate pumpkin spice?” I sputtered.
Before I could say anything else, he cracked my neck. Tension I didn’t even know I had left my body. That was it? When he finally sat back, there was a satisfied smirk on his face.
“You said that to distract me.”
“I did,” he confirmed.
“So you don’t hate pumpkin spice, right?”
The little hope I had left was completely extinguished when he shook his head. “No, I really don’t like it.”
And the chance I had to impress him with homemade pumpkin spice cookies had been crushed .
“That’s worse than hating mayo. Your taste is just as bad as mine.”
“I disagree. My taste is great.”
I squinted at him. Danté watched me, waiting for me to take the bait. So obviously I took it. It wouldn’t have been fun otherwise.
“Are you talking about food or your taste in women?”
“Especially my taste in women.”
And as if to emphasize his words, Danté winked. He fucking winked. At me.
“Then I hope you’re referring to me: your favourite dorky neighbour with the awesome squirrel onesie.”
A soft smile played on his lips. “You know I was.”
And maybe it was a lie to not bruise my fragile ego, but for once, I just smiled and appreciated the warm feeling that his words gave me.
“Perfect.”
“Now that we both agreed on something, let’s talk about the wedding.”
“Alright, I’m listening.”