30. Chapter 30 #2
I looked at a book cover where a shirtless pirate held onto his lover who was so overcome with lust she had to collapse in his arms. I squeaked.
A bodice ripper!
I didn’t have to read Spanish to know this was the romance section.
Like a kid in a candy store, I snatched up several vintage translations I had no hope of reading.
But they had awesome painted covers. Summoner shook his head mockingly as he pulled out cash for my books.
I bought the stack while he waited outside.
“Thank you.” I smiled as I joined him, swinging my bag.
He waved off my appreciation. I swallowed, watching his reddened knuckles clench and unclench at his side.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
“…Yeah. I just need a sec.” He kicked at nothing.
He ran his hands over his face several times before taking a deep breath. His chest rose and fell with a measured intake of breath. Back straightened, he turned to me and attempted to present a calm face.
“… Okay.” He spoke with a measure of unease.
The wobble was almost unnoticeable. He was good at concealing. He had to be, but not with me. I saw him. I always did.
“You sure? Because we don’t have to do this. I’m happy going home.”
Summoner shook his head. His eyes implored me to press on. There was nothing to prove to me, but he had something to prove to himself. Our date had multiple meanings for both of us. A heated measure of understanding passed between us. Wordlessly, we started down the sidewalk.
A group of teenagers passed by, laughing and shouting at each other. Summoner’s shoulders hunched. The teens were lost in their own carefree summer world. And although we didn’t have the ease of youth on our side, I wanted to think this time together could be just as carefree.
I grabbed his shoulder, turning him to me for a quick kiss.
“What was that for?” he asked with wide eyes.
Because I love you, idiot.
I shrugged, took his hand, and continued, hopefully a little more carefree than before.
An ancient bell tower loomed seductively overhead as we walked.
At the entrance of an open plaza, we stepped around a small crowd of people watching a pair of ancient street musicians.
Bent over their guitars, the older men strummed along.
Summoner tapped on beat with his free hand.
I giggled. He just couldn’t help it. Music was his life.
Suddenly, he pulled my arm overhead and spun me around.
Thankfully, I didn’t fall over my feet. He pulled me against him and pressed a hand to my lower back.
Body on fire, I laughed as his hips shimmed against mine.
It was sexy, silly, and goofy. My bag of books hung against his back as I held onto his shoulders.
Effortlessly, as he led us in a simple two-step dance.
“Jesus, sweetheart, you really have no rhythm,” he teased.
“Shut up!”
God, he’s beautiful inside and out.
We laughed as we clumsily danced together on the sidewalk, our feet echoing against the pavement.
The sun overhead painted us in warmth. Momentarily, music pushed aside the monster of anxiety.
It was freeing, and all too fleeting. As the song ended and the crowd dissipated, the walls around Summoner seemed to reconstruct.
His jaw ticked harshly as we stepped apart.
Face flushed, he knew he overstepped his own bounds.
Quickly, he tossed a handful of bills into the busker’s open case and doublestepped ahead.
I walked quietly beside him, giving him enough space to return to himself.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m okay.” His lips quivered in a lazy half-smile, giving me permission to breathe.
The threat of a panic attack banished, we returned to our stroll.
We looked through knickknacks and tchotchkes, window displays for candles and rolls of fabric.
One window display caught my attention and stopped me in my tracks.
I pulled away from Summoner and fogged the glass with my excited breath.
“Wow!” I squeaked.
The display was matching mother and daughter outfits. Cute, colorful dresses with high socks and rain boots. Off-season but adorable. A single pair of adult calf-high, red rain boots had me in a choke hold. A large bow on the back was the chef’s kiss. I was practically drooling.
“Poppy?”
Through the reflection in the glass, I saw Summoner watching skeptically. Giggling, I pointed at the boots in the window. His face remained cynical.
“Cute stuff,” I explained.
“Ah. Most girls would be looking for Louboutins.”
“I’m weird like that.”
He shook his head and muttered. “Not weird. Not weird at all…”
His eyes seemed clouded by some weighted thought. But before I could ask about it, he walked ahead. I quickly followed, leaving my dream boots behind. We turned a corner, practically walking into a line of people.
“What’s the line for?” I asked nobody.
“Ice cream!” A short woman in American flag sunglasses smiled over her shoulder at me.
Oddly misplaced patriotism aside, my eyes widened.
“OOOO! We have to get some! Please!”
Summoner rolled his eyes, but stepped into line without hesitation. He kept his head ducked, focusing on his shoes as more people lined up behind us. I rubbed his forearm in a show of support. His muscles were stiff.