Chapter Nine #2
My eyes shoot to his, bemused. “What? No. I said I wouldn’t, and your height wouldn’t go on either side of the list. It’s a physical trait you have no control over and cannot change.
We don’t put physical traits you have no control over and cannot change on the pro-con list. That would be awful.
The list is for recognizing the parts of yourself that you’ve already done well with and finding the bits and bobs that can be adjusted.
Height doesn’t have anything to do with either of those things. ”
His head tilts, and a lock of alabaster hair falls over a dark slash of eyebrow, cutting it in half. “Then…?”
Ah. I have messed up. I should have thrown his height on the board somewhere.
Now, I have to admit that I was just saying things to say things, because the air felt thick and the room felt small and I was worried my skin had turned translucent so that he could see my heart, begging him to keep holding me for the rest of forever.
I clear my throat.
“I was just saying,” I offer with a shrug. “Your height is a height.”
He blinks away his confusion, and his lip twitches. “Ah,” he says.
I nod. “Very height.”
“Your height is not very height,” he notes.
I sniff. “I’ll have you know, my height is perfectly average.”
“Poem says the same thing,” he tells me, referencing his several inches shorter than me future sister-in-law.
“I’m offended,” I tell him, offendedly. “I’ve got at least three inches on her.”
“Three inches isn’t very much. So not much that a person might consider it to be negligible.” His eyes sparkle as he teases me, and I feel my skin start to buzz.
“My stars,” I whisper. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at anyone like that. Who let you out of the house?”
His sparkling eyes soften. “You may not have the height I thought you would, but you’re just as cute in real life as you are in your letters.”
His words feed a flame within me labeled: THE CREATURE IS CONTRARY, ADD FUEL AT YOUR OWN RISK.
“I am not cute. I’m celestial and wondrous. How dare you.” And I come off as celestial and wondrous in my letters, too, thank you very much.
He tips his head. “That you are,” he allows. “And also very, very cute. Adorable. Endearing.”
“Stop that,” I order as my celestial skin burns with wondrous pink. “Illegal.”
“I don’t know. This is kind of fun. You look cute—and adorable and endearing and celestial and wondrous, of course—when you’re a little bit off kilter. And, anyway, isn’t this what I’m supposed to be doing? Seeing something I want and going after it?”
I choke on the air steadily leaving my body. “This is not what your lessons are about.”
His chest shakes with a low snicker he doesn’t try to control.
“This is exactly what my lessons are about,” he refutes.
“I know it, because this is exactly how men in those books you and Almond read behave. Boorish and unrepentant. And you, my starling, are supposed to be giving me positive reinforcement for this current atrocious behavior I’m displaying. ”
My eyes widen. “What do you know about the books Almond and I read?”
“Enough,” he tuts. “Certainly enough to be properly horrified.”
I deflate. “Oh.”
“You’re disappointed?”
Absolutely yes, I am disappointed. “I thought we were going to gain a new book club member.”
He shakes his head. “I may have been coerced into kidnapping you, but the book club is where I draw a huge, immovable line. I’m not going anywhere near that club. That would be asking for trauma.”
He’s not wrong. However, if he can tease me, then surely I can tease him back? “I think you’d like the book we’re reading right now. There’s otter shifters.”
His sparkle dims to a low-wattage disbelief. “Otter… shifters? Like wolf shifters? But otter? You’re reading a werewolf otter book?”
“They’re called wereotters, actually, if you subscribe to the were- terminology, although certain sects find that offensive, so it’s best to stick to animal shifter wording instead: wolf shifter, fox shifter, otter shifter.
It’s more inclusive. And we’re not just reading one book. There’s a series!”
His color fades.
“What was that about me being cute and adorable?”
“You’re still cute and adorable,” he replies. “You’re just also several other things. Scary comes to mind.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “The big, bad Wolfe is scared of a little lamb.”
His sparkle returns. “So you admit it, then. You are little.”
My nose meets the air, and I sniff. “I admit nothing.” I glance at a clock hanging above a poster print for the movie Howl’s Moving Castle—one in a line of anime poster prints, nearly all of which I recommended to Wolfe to watch.
The clock is themed after Calcifer, a character in the movie (and book, if you’re interested, but the book is a much different experience).
A flame licks at the twelve, while a smaller one reaches for the four.
4:00 PM. I grimace. “Except that I need to get back to my shop. It’s almost delivery time, and I have a few things I need to do before the truck shows up.
” Like get to the diner before they run out of apple pie.
Wolfe turns to have his own look at the time and likewise grimaces. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I swear I didn’t think this would take that long.”
I smile wryly. “I don’t think kidnappings are usually very succinct, but me taking over probably took the longest chunk of time. You don’t owe me an apology.”
He shrugs. “I’m giving you one anyway.”
I sigh. “What if instead of an apology, you walk me back to Hunter’s Moon?” Where I can pick up my wallet, wait for Wolfe to disappear, then leave for apple-y-er pastures.
Wolfe hits me with a smile, his canine teeth sharp and shiny as he agrees to walk me over.
My breath arrests. Stars, since when are teeth attractive?
My heart pitter patters.
Stars. Stars, stars, stars.
It might not just be the big, bad wolf that’s in trouble here—not when the little lamb has fangs to contend with.