Chapter 18 #2
“Of course. You’ve done so much for me. Buying cookies is the least I can do.” He flashes me a smile, then straightens to look around the shop. “It’s packed in here. You wanna sit outside?”
I’m once again grateful for the nice weather as we step outside and walk around the back of the cookie shop, where a lovely garden hosts a few picnic tables and benches. A group of children is just leaving, and we swoop in and take the table they just vacated.
“Success!” Aric says, thumping the cookie tray down onto the table. “I think it was meant to be, Brains.”
I giggle as I take a seat.
“Do you mind that nickname?” he asks while sitting across from me. “Sorry, I guess I never asked.”
I shake my head, then push my glasses back up the bridge of my nose after they slide down. “Not at all. I think it’s nice.”
Aric’s smile is quick and easy. He pulls out two cookies and both cookie bars. “Which do you wanna try first?”
“Hmm.” I eye the baked treats. They both look so good. “I’m starting with a chocolate chip. Something traditional. Then I can still be excited for the blueberry.”
Aric nods. “I like the way you think. Chocolate chip it is.”
He hands me a cookie, then takes a bite.
“Good goddess,” Aric moans, looking down at the cookie like it might be enchanted. “Chocolate chip will never get old.”
I take a bite, and the cookie is perfectly crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside—a difficult balance to achieve. But it’s missing a little something. It could use a touch less salt and just a bit more vanilla.
“What do you think?” he asks.
I consider lying, then opt for the truth. “It’s amazing, but . . . I think my mom can do better.”
His green skin loses some of its color. “Shit. I forgot your mom owns the Wandering Cup.” He looks down at the cookie like he’s horrified at himself. “Am I a traitor?”
I laugh out loud, then shake my head and hurriedly say, “Not at all! Mama and I always visit other cafés and bakeries. It’s nice to support one another.”
“And scope out the competition?” Aric adds quietly, one of his brows arching in the corner.
My lips edge into a sideways smile. “Yeah, that too.”
Aric’s easy smile turns a little sharp. “You surprise me, Poppy Waverly. I had no idea.”
I bite my lip, trying to keep from smiling too big. “I have hidden depths. I can be mysterious.”
“Mm.” Aric sits forward a bit, leaning his elbows on the picnic table, still wearing that sharp smile that reminds me of the roguish main character in the book I’m reading right now.
“I like mysteries. Maybe I can solve yours.” He tips his head slightly, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s determined to figure out.
“What do you think—will you be an easy solve, or are you going to make me work for it?”
When my cheeks flame with heat, probably turning my face beet red, his grin turns triumphant.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, his voice warm with amusement.
He sits back and reaches for the blueberry-vanilla cookie bars, clearly enjoying how flustered he’s made me.
“All right, Brains. You ready for this?”
I dab the cookie crumbs from my lips with a napkin from the tray, then nod. “I’m ready.”
We each take one of the cookie bars, and they’re still a bit warm, fresh out of the oven.
“Hopefully it won’t disappoint,” he says. “I know you’ve got some high expectations.”
With a playful eye roll, I sink my teeth into the cookie bar. And oh. Wow.
The blueberries are tart, not too sweet, and the inside of the cookie bar explodes with vanilla frosting and perfectly crunchy walnuts.
Aric seems to be having a similar experience, based on his closed eyes and lost-in-bliss expression. I giggle at him, and he peeks one eye open.
“These are . . .” He shakes his head.
“Lost for words?”
Aric just nods and takes another bite.
The cookie bar is so good that I finish it in just a few bites, then prop my elbows on the table with a contented sigh. Aric finishes his, then levels his eyes on me before his gaze slides down to my lips.
“You’ve got some blueberry on your lip,” he says, pointing.
Heat flushes through me, and I quickly lift a hand and try to scrub it off. “Gone?”
“Nope.” Aric leans forward slightly. “Here, let me.”
He reaches across the small table, and my breath catches as his hand finds the side of my face. His palm is warm against my cheek, and when his thumb brushes across my bottom lip, every thought in my head scatters like dandelion seeds in the wind.
“There,” he says quietly. “Got it.”
But he doesn’t pull away.
His hand stays cradled against my face, and he’s close enough now that I can see the dark lashes outlining his hazel eyes, can feel the heat he puts off as his body blocks me from the autumn breeze sweeping through the back seating area. My heart hammers so hard I’m certain he can hear it.
Orcs have great hearing, right?
Aric’s gaze drops to my lips, then flicks back up to meet my eyes. There’s a question there, unspoken but clear.
I don’t trust my voice, so I just . . . wait. Wait for him to lean in, to guide me.
That seems to be answer enough.
He leans in slowly—so slowly I have time to notice everything: the way his pupils dilate, the slight catch in his breathing, the warmth radiating from him as he closes the distance between us.
My eyes flutter closed just before his lips brush against mine.
Slowly, tentatively. But there’s no mistake: Aric Vandermere is kissing me. Me.
It’s nothing like the one kiss I had before—clumsy and rushed behind the café when I was fifteen. This is gentle. Questioning. Like he’s afraid I might pull away.
But I don’t want to pull away. I want to be brave, like Alina and Lyra.
So I press back against him, just a little, and hear the small sound he makes in response. His hand slides from my cheek to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my loose hair, and the kiss deepens, though he’s careful with his tusks.
My hand finds his neck almost of its own accord, fingers trembling as they press against his hot skin. His pulse thrums beneath my fingertips—rapid and unsteady, just like mine.
He’s nervous too.
The realization sends a surge of boldness through me, and I part my lips slightly, let my tongue brush experimentally against his bottom lip. It’s instinct more than knowledge, but—
Aric makes a low rumbling sound in his chest and pulls back, breathing hard. His eyes are darker now, pupils wide, and he touches his own lips like he’s not quite sure what just happened.
“You are . . . full of surprises,” he murmurs.
We sit there for a moment, neither of us quite willing to break the spell. My lips are tingling, my face is hot, and I’m acutely aware that we’re in public, that there are other people around us, that I just kissed Aric Vandermere in the middle of a cookie shop garden.
I can’t believe I just kissed him. That he kissed me.
This is so much better than any of the dreams I’ve had lately—especially that cookie one.
“Are you okay?” Aric asks when my silence has stretched on for a touch too long.
I nod, then add quietly, “Yes. More than okay.”
Aric’s smile softens. “What are you thinking right now?”
I blink as if coming out of a spell, then decide to say the first thing that pops into my mind. “That I’m very glad I listened to Professor Silvermoon.”
Aric arches a brow at me.
“She suggested I try the blueberry-vanilla flavor,” I explain, and a little look of surprise, then understanding, crosses Aric’s face.
“Do you diviners always know what’s going to happen before it happens?” he asks as he stands from our picnic table, then reaches down to offer me a hand up.
I don’t need it, but I slip my hand into his anyway, letting him pull me to my feet. “No. Life would be a bit boring that way, I think.”
Still holding my hand, Aric looks down at me with a more serious expression. “So, you didn’t know I was going to kiss you?”
I don’t break his gaze as I shake my head.
“But if you had . . . would you still have come?”
There’s a hint of nervousness in his voice, and I imagine it’s such a rare occurrence that I make a mental note of it.
I give his hand a little squeeze. “Yes. I would’ve been a lot more nervous though.”
Aric’s smile is bright. “You were nervous? Why?”
Since we’re talking truths today, I take a deep breath, then let it out with a sigh and say, “I’ve .
. . only been on a few dates before. I didn’t really know what to expect.
” With my free hand, I reach up and snag a strand of hair.
“And you seem so much more experienced, so . . . I guess I . . . didn’t want to disappoint you. Or make a fool of myself.”
His beaming smile fades, but he doesn’t drop my hand.
A sweet-scented breeze dances around us, causing one of the tall aspens lining the back garden to shed a few golden leaves.
They twirl down around us like confetti, and one lands in my hair.
Before I can brush it away, Aric reaches up to pluck it gently free.
He studies the leaf for a moment, turning it between his fingers, and something shifts in his expression—like he’s just made a decision.
“You know,” he says, his voice softer now, “I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to ask you something. The right moment.” He glances up at the tree, then back at me, that mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “But I think the universe just gave me a sign.”
My heart picks up speed. “Ask me what?”
Instead of answering, Aric steps back and—to my complete shock—drops to one knee right there in the garden.
I’m immediately aware of heads turning toward us.
But Aric just grins up at me, tusks gleaming, holding out the golden aspen leaf like it’s a priceless treasure. “Poppy Waverly, will you allow me the honor of escorting you to the Blue Moon Ball?”
My cheeks flame as I feel multiple pairs of eyes on us, but when I focus on Aric—on the hopeful warmth in his expression, the way he’s holding that little leaf with such earnestness—I find I don’t care nearly as much as I typically would.
With a trembling hand, I take the leaf from him. “Yes,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, I say, “Yes, I’d love that.”
Aric is on his feet in an instant, and before I can process what’s happening, he’s lifting me clear off the ground and spinning me around. I gasp, clutching the leaf in one hand and holding his shoulder with the other, and suddenly, I’m laughing—really, truly laughing—as the garden blurs around us.
He sets me down carefully, steadying me as I find my footing and catch my breath. A few people around us are clapping, and one elderly woman says to her companion, “How sweet!”
I duck my head, trying to hide my flaming cheeks, and Aric chuckles.
“Worth it,” he murmurs, breath brushing my hair. “Completely worth it.”
I pull back just enough to look up at him, still holding the golden leaf.
“And I’m glad you said yes,” he whispers. “Otherwise, that would’ve been embarrassing.”
My mouth pulls into a sideways smile. “When has any girl ever told you no?” I ask pointedly. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I didn’t mean to sound insecure, even if—
“I don’t care about any other girl,” he says, interrupting my train of thought, and something about the way he says it makes me want to believe him, even if it feels like a bad idea. “I just care about you.”
His expression softens, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me again. But instead, he just brings my hand up and presses a kiss to my knuckles—a gesture that somehow feels even more intimate.
“Come on,” he says, lifting our bag of leftover cookies off the picnic table and tugging me gently toward the garden gate, my small fingers wrapped in his larger ones. “We should probably head back before it gets dark. And didn’t you say you promised Lyra some cookies?”