46. Haven
Chapter 46
Haven
I’m making an absolute pig of myself, but Bastian should know I don’t play around when I’m eating. I revere food like the glorious sustenance that it is. Anyone who spent as many nights without supper as I have, would worship at its temple too.
And it’s weird, because I’m pretty sure a well-off guy like Professor Rooke has never known what hunger is, but he seems to enjoy every morsel just as much as I do.
It’s the way his eyes drift closed, as if trying to enhance every bite.
I keep catching myself staring at him.
Thankfully, he only catches me once.
“I refuse to apologize for the way I’m eating,” he says, wiping his mouth with a napkin before sipping his beer. “This food is fantastic.” He turns around, giving the stand with its handful of chairs and tables a quick scan. “Can’t believe I haven’t heard about this place before.”
“People that side of the Agony River tend to stay that side.” I don’t know if it’s the food or the alcohol, but I’m feeling so relaxed I could put my head down and sleep for a week. Or just kick back and listen to some music, like we did at Bastian’s house the other night.
Shit. I totally forgot what this lunch was all about.
I push the sorry remains of my meal away. I’m stuffed, but I’m still considering licking out the traces of guacamole left in the wrappers.
“So, uh, the vibe isn’t what I was hoping for, but I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Professor Rooke.”
Bastian pauses en route to tearing into his last taco, and I feel shitty for stopping him in his tracks like that. He puts it back in the basket and wipes his mouth again, taking his time, glancing around like he’s people watching.
“Vibe?”
We both glance up as thunder rumbles in the distance.
“This was going to be my treat,” I say.
His gaze is sharp when it lands on me again. “I apologize if I’ve given you the wrong impression.”
A spike of panic goes through me. “What do you mean?”
He takes another sip of beer, setting it down and turning it on its axis for a moment as he looks away. “Miss Lee, listen to me carefully.”
Fuck, that panic spreads through my body, tingling in my fingertips. How the hell did I piss him off so quickly? There’s this sudden tightness at the corner of his eyes that I’m not imagining. The way his fist curls around his beer.
His eyes flick back to mine and I can’t bear the eye contact he’s making, but I’m too scared to look away.
“Our relationship is not transactional. You needed a place to stay. There was an open bed at the sorority. You needed reliable transportation. I had a spare car. You’re making this into something it’s not.”
I should feel relief, but instead I’m suffocated in dread.
“I didn’t mean?—“
I cut off at a shake of his head. He glances away again, then back in my direction, but looking past me, not at me.
“I was just trying to help.”
“Yes, of course, and I know that, but it’s just… it’s a lot, okay?” He’s still not looking at me, and for some reason, I need him to. Maybe it’s to gauge his response better, maybe it’s just because having him look at me is a weird fucking obsession I’ve developed over the past few days.
No one’s looked at me the way he has. With so much respect. Admiration. And genuine curiosity.
I grab his arm, squeezing the muscles beneath.
His gaze returns, his nostrils flaring as if I’ve made it worse somehow. But then he lays a hand over mine, squeezing me back.
“Is it really?”
I try to pull my hand away, frowning, but he captures my wrist, keeping me locked in place.
“Or are you just not used to getting nice things?”
He wants to talk about our relationship?
It just climbed over the barrier at Lookout Point wearing even shittier flip-flops than the ones I have on.
Fuck, that feels like an eternity ago.
But whatever I thought that night, it led me here, and here is a hell of a lot better than where I would have been.
Which would be dead.
Or in a coma.
Or, a paraplegic.
I mean, my life still sucks, but at least I have my health.
And someone who cares about me enough to give me nice things.
Movement catches my eye, and Bastian must spot Milo headed our way at the same time I do. He lets go of my hand, and I slip it into my lap, bowing my head as I fight a furious blush.
“You guys need anything else over here?” Milo asks. “Another beer?”
“No thanks.” Bastian gives him a small nod. “I should be getting back.”
“Cool,” Milo says, then smiles as he turns to me. “Nice to see you again, Haven.”
I peek at him through my lashes, nodding, and he frowns at me before shaking his head and walking away.
“He likes you.”
I throw Bastian a glare. “So?”
Bastian chuckles, tipping his head back to drain the last of his beer. “Christ, don’t sound so defensive. It was merely an observation.”
“I wasn’t being—“ I cut off when I hear how defensive I sound.
“I’ll walk you back,” Bastian says, standing.
He waits for me to unlock the Land Rover’s door and then holds it open for me as I get in. “Straight back to sorority house,” he says, lifting his eyebrows.
I’m about to tell him to go fuck himself when he adds, “See you later.”
“Later?”
“At the gala.” He curls his fingers over the top of the door, leaning against the edge.
“Oh. That.” I laugh as I shake my head. “I’m not going.”
There’s a bemused smile on his mouth. “I thought you girls couldn’t wait to put on your pretty dresses and parade around like—“ He cuts off, mouth tightening.
I swing my legs out of the car, leaning closer. “Were you going to say grown ups?”
His hands tighten on the top of the car door as he looks away to chuckle. “Christ, I just keep fucking this up.”
This . That word releases a frantic butterfly into my guts.
After he’d just gone to lengths to tell me I’m imagining this.
“As you’re well aware, I don’t own any pretty dresses.”
The smile fades from his lips as they tighten into a line. He looks at me from the corner of his eye, his fingers still white where he’s gripping the door.
“Should I just have tossed your trash bags in the back of my Land Rover and not given it a second thought?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” I meant to be more vehement about it, but he took the fucking wind out of my sails by being so damn psychic.
“Well, tough shit. I did you a favor instead. Deal with it.”
“You’re mean.”
“And you’re childish, but I guess we’ll just have to accept each other as we are.” He laughs at my expression. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”
“That’s it. I’m leaving.” I reach for the door’s handle, but Bastian captures my wrist, refusing to let go even when I tug.
“Not yet. We have an errand to run.”
“I have to go.” I still have two hours before my shift starts, but I can spend the time studying.
“Nope. You’re coming with me, missy. We’re going to see a man about a dog.”
“What does that even mean?” I whine as he half drags me out of the car. He shuts the door, wrestles the keys out of my hand, and locks it.
Then shoves them in his pocket.
“Hey!”
He lets go of my hand, urging me toward his Tesla with his fingers pressed to the small of my back.
Thunder rumbles, and it has the audacity to be ominous about it.
I could have dug in my heels. I might have lost a flip-flop, but at least I’d have won the battle.
But I don’t fight, because I enjoy spending time with him, even when we’re arguing and I’m so frustrated I want to slap him. And because it’s obvious he likes being with me too, even though I keep challenging him at every turn.
What does that say about me?
What does that say about him?