Chapter 7 #2
“Well, clearly—” His gaze tracks back to my friend and my brother. “—you wouldn’t pick up on it if I were.”
Wow. Okay. Rude. “And now you’re insulting me?”
“It felt like the sort of thing an enemy might say.” His lashes lower, jet dark in contrast to his hair and eyebrows.
“I can, however, adjust my efforts to your expectations with some instruction. I was opting for playful banter, but I’m not entirely what I’d call practiced in the matter of becoming someone’s enemy. ”
“You’re…trying to become my enemy? In a…to lovers capacity?”
“Give the girl a prize.” He leans in, eyes locked on mine, and then…
then he says some truly insane stuff, “You’re gorgeous, August. You’re funny.
You make some of the best food I’ve ever had in both taste and presentation.
Something about you spears me through the soul, and I can’t get the possibility of being with you out of my head.
I think it’s safe to say I’ve fallen in love. ”
My mouth drops open. “In a single night?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Does it matter?”
A little bit, yeah. I think it matters, anyway.
Quite a lot, actually, if we’re being blunt.
It’s the difference between a slow burn and an instalove.
I do not subscribe to instalove. Because that L word?
It doesn’t exist in an instant. Attraction can.
Physical, pathetic, and meaningless attraction can spur to life in a moment. But love?
Love takes time. Effort. More. Love is a commitment. And you can’t trust it unless you see it in practice for far, far longer than an instant.
I say, “What…is going on right now? You cannot be serious. I know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but I’ve only made you two meals. This is kind of ridiculous.”
“So what if it’s ridiculous?”
“Well, it’s also stupid.”
“Elaborate.”
“I’m putting you up in my house right now because my brother has confirmed that you’re a lovely individual, which is an honor he has literally never bestowed on anyone else before in his twenty-seven years of life.
That said, if there’s some kind of weird attraction between you—a complete stranger—and me, your position gets rocky, doesn’t it? ”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Yet you’re, knowingly, being an idiot?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I blurt.
“My answer’s stupid.”
“Well, at least you’re consistent.”
Blowing out a breath, he says, “I’ve given up.
I don’t think I can be what you want. It took you moments to steal my heart and my breath.
In a single night, I have watched a chasm open between us.
Every last thing you do is endearing or charming or unique.
You’re captivating, like a character in a book.
And do you think I didn’t notice the bookcase in the room where I’m staying?
It’s filled with stories boasting your name.
You’re an author with over a hundred titles.
When you say happiness is boring, you know.
You know because you’ve lived a thousand lives and explored a thousand different adventures in them.
When you get bored of a character’s joy, you write the ending.
Worse, when you tire of a character himself, you move on to another male lead.
I will only ever be one person. Worse than that, the person I am is fairly unremarkable.
I’ve been called boring my entire life. I’ve overheard how uninteresting I am throughout my entire childhood.
I have been told, on numerous occasions, that the most compelling thing about me is the fact my grandparents had to raise me because my mother was a drug addict unsuitable for childcare.
That’s my perfectly common backstory, because it’s one millions of others have.
That’s all I have to offer you in the way of interesting traits.
Yet I’m not usually a defeatist. Forgive me for being boringly in character and opting to communicate instead of relying on some innate misunderstanding to propel every facet of the plot forward, but is there any hope that you could shape me into the male lead you want, August? ”
I’m so, so, so, so very sorry.
What?
What, what?
Huh?
Excuse me??
This is a full and proper confession, isn’t it? The first I have ever seen in the flesh.
Dominic searches my eyes, becoming more pitiful by the moment. Softly, he says, “I’ll do anything. Anything at all for a chance.”
Anything?
He cannot simply look this pretty and tell a girl who writes romance like a rabid creature that he’ll do anything to win her affections. That’s the start of a story. That’s a pen if I’ve ever been handed one. But instead of parchment to write on, he’s offering me his life.
Mouth dry, I echo, “Anything?”
I’m being charmed. Sung out to sea by a siren.
I’m doomed to get way in over my head and drown.
And drowning, everyone knows, is an awful way to go…but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the picture of tragedy that it spins in my head.
Gray skies. Dark waters. A struggle against the icy pulls and beating waves.
It’s compelling imagery.
And I’m somewhat prone to listening to my compulsions.
Dominic’s icy blue eyes light, and bits of melancholy slip away, draining like sand washed out into the torrent of this tsunami he’s building. “You’re considering it,” he says, fragments of more than hope sparking to life in his tone.
“It’s…a fairly alluring proposition, don’t you think? That kind of control… Any human would find themselves at least a little seduced.”
“Excellent. Be seduced.” He closes his hand into a fist against the mattress, determination renewing in his posture. “Show me that it’s possible for me to seduce you.”
Oh…heck.
My heart pounds as I contemplate the logistics of what he’s offering.
“Should we create rules? A guideline of some sort? A safe word that you can say when you realize that actually you’ve been really stupid, and you need to opt out because no instalove is worth playing to the tune of a mentally unstable mistress? ”
He…smiles.
It’s not a soft, blond prince smile, either.
It’s a smile like a dark night awash in melodies of temptation.
He murmurs, “Shall I draft a document of our rules and safe words when we get back home?”
“We should probably draft them together, all things considered.”
“Fair enough.”
My swallow sticks in my throat as pressure builds in my chest. “Also, I feel like maybe it’s stupid to let you keep living with me.”
His expression doesn’t change its allure. “Why?”
“Because you’re obviously insane?”
“I can confirm that living with someone who’s insane is a marvelous experience.
” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“Also, not to insult your intelligence or anything until I learn whether or not my character sheet as your enemy includes such a tendency, but you should have known what I was from the moment I agreed to sleep in a casket.”
He has a point. However. “In my defense, I had assumed you were desperate.”
He chuckles, and there’s something unbelievably warm in his expression when he murmurs, “You really know how to see the best in people, don’t you?”
I don’t know about that.
But.
Well.
I certainly do know how to see the potential.