CHAPTER 42 – ANTONIO
Caspian finds me dangerously attractive. His words crash against my heart, heavy and sweet, like waves I don’t know how to ride yet. I’m on a date with the most gorgeous man I know, and he said my studious nature is dangerously attractive.
The air hums with the electricity crackling between us.
He looks calm. Like he knows what he’s doing. It’s a relief because I don’t.
I don’t have a clue. How could I when he looks at me like that?
A horrible thought occurs to me. What if Caspian assumes I’m rich like him? What if he never wants to see me again because I don’t have a savings account?
“I’ll never have the kind of money you have,” I say in a hurry. He needs to properly understand that.
“I know.”
That’s it? Did he not get it? I frown, trying to read his face. It’s difficult, because his face makes me feel so shy.
“I mean I don’t have any—” I flail for money words. “Investment advisors. Because I don’t have investments.”
I pause, trying to come up with even one tiny investment so that I don’t sound like a financial failure.
“Other than my books,” I add.
Oh my God. Books hardly count.
“I know they’re more like intellectual investments,” I explain, unable to stop. “I could maybe get two dollars if I sold one.”
“Please don’t sell your books.”
“I don’t want to,” I admit quickly in a surge of protectiveness. My books are precious to me. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“I hope so too.” He looks at me, serious and steady. “I’m aware I have more money than you. I have more money than most people.”
“As long as you’re aware of it,” I mutter. “And even though I’m not rich, I’m not poor either. I didn’t eat two rolls because I’ve been starving or something. I took another one because they were so good.”
“Earl will be delighted to hear that.”
I fidget with my bracelet.
Then I hear myself blurting the one thing I didn’t want to bring up.
“You said take care when you drove me home.”
His eyes soften immediately. “Yes. Did it upset you?”
I look away. Eat a strawberry. Realize I’ve eaten almost all of them. There’s only one left.
“You should have this,” I say, handing him the last strawberry politely. “I’m sorry I ate them all.”
“It makes me happy that you like them.”
He eats the strawberry, then prompts gently, “You didn’t give me an answer.”
“Yes, it upset me,” I mumble. “You should’ve noticed I wasn’t pushing you away anymore.”
I almost tell him that I need to be ardently admired. Preferably in the rain or in the English countryside. Saying “take care” is not in line with my expectations.
“I noticed.”
Oh.
I don’t know what to do with that.
It sounds a lot like he doesn’t care.
I’m dangerously close to tears.
“I also knew you were vulnerable after what happened in the library,” he adds.
My fingers worry the bracelet. Over and over.
“You drove away. And I had to—”
“What did you have to do?” he asks, even though he knows.
I want to say it anyway. I need to say it.
“I had to come looking for you,” I whisper.
He brushes a curl off my forehead, and my skin sparks where he touches me.
“I thought you were there for the literary atmosphere, not me,” he says, giving me a teasing smile.
I scowl.
“You knew why I was there.”
He lets out a soft laugh.
“True. I did know why you were there. Seeing you glaring at me from behind that ficus made me very happy.”
The look he gives me now isn’t teasing anymore. It makes me feel hot and bare and completely seen.
“I never wanted you to think I didn’t care. I didn’t ask you out in the car because I didn’t want the adrenaline from the library to be the reason you said yes.”
My mouth opens as understanding hits.
He was protecting me. Even then. Especially then.
“Thank you,” I say.
His gaze is so intense I panic.
“I’ll make you a sandwich,” I blurt.
Silence. Even the cicadas cringe.
“On our second date,” I add quickly, dying a little more with each word. “If you want one.”
“I most certainly do,” he says, like I’ve offered him my hand instead of bread.
I kind of feel that I have.
My feelings are spilling, no, flooding out of me, and then I can’t hold them back anymore. I barely register I’m moving, barely realize I’m kissing him before his hand cups my jaw and the other steadies my back, grounding me completely.
He lets me be clumsy, needy, and overwhelmed.
He lets me taste him.
He helps me and holds me when something breaks open in my chest.
A broken little sound escapes me.
There goes gravity. There goes my sanity.
But it’s okay. Caspian’s got me.
His hand is still firm at my back, his breath warm against mine, and his thumb brushes my cheek, keeping me anchored.
Keeping me safe. Safe in the light.