Chapter 10
?
Be who you want me to be.
Alister
I can already confirm that I’d be bored by now if you were anything particularly unremarkable.
In all my life, I’ve never been considered interesting.
Never once. I was, as the woman seated across from me said, a nerd.
But even with that moniker thrust upon me so often, I was too boring to bother teasing.
Or perhaps I was too oblivious to realize I was being picked on until after my bullies gave up.
I’ve always been on the larger side, after all.
And even as a nerd, being taller and broader than my foes probably meant they weren’t going to push it if I wasn’t reacting how they expected me to outright.
My entire childhood, I had niche, mundane hobbies, and I wasn’t exactly social, so I didn’t much talk about them even with the other “nerds.”
Not to mention that my “hobbies” revolved around career success, psychology, and neurotic organization—of numbers, people, and concepts. It’s unlikely that the kids my age could have grasped any of the nonsense in my skull until my age no longer described kids at all.
By the time I was in middle school, I’d outlined my plan for Mont Business.
In high school, I studied the popular groups feverishly.
I didn’t want to be them; I wanted to emulate their charisma at a far more productive scale than something as fruitless as high school.
I read through psychology book after psychology book.
I compiled all my data into spreadsheets that I studied and practiced well into college.
The summer after I graduated with an Associate in business, I used what I’d learned to build my connections and credibility.
It felt like I’d cracked the people code, boiled it all down, and created an equation for success. Young as I was, I knew the pain points of sale, and I used that to sell my services with optimal levels of success.
Now, Mont Business is a little less than an empire. I’ve turned coaching and outsourcing management into a science that I teach to others for considerable amounts of money.
In a lot of ways, I know everything I’ve done isn’t unremarkable at all, but I’ve never thought of my capabilities and my character as a united force before.
I am capable of remarkable things; I am wholly an unremarkable person.
But August doesn’t think so.
And she doesn’t even know about my more notable accomplishments.
All she’s seen is who I am, without skills, wealth, or social standing in the way.
She’s looked at me and called me remarkable.
I cannot keep falling harder for this woman. If I do, eventually the G-force is sure to kill me.
And, yet, here she is. Sitting pretty in the sun hat and dress I bought for her, beaming over a charcuterie board, and stealing more of my heart than I thought I had left.
Eyes glittering, she says, “I’ve always wanted to come here and get one of these.”
“Why haven’t you?”
She pops a cube of cheese in her mouth. “Because I simply cannot justify spending thirty dollars on a fancy cheese platter if I’m going to eat it alone, and December isn’t allowed to come here.”
I reach for one of the more modestly priced fried goat cheese fritters I ordered and take a bite. “She’s not allowed? Why not?”
“Her family’s a bit…strict.” Despondent, August shakes her head and sighs.
“They treat her kind of like a fragile princess, and while she is a princess, she most definitely is not fragile. Still, their house, their rules, and their rules include going nowhere near alcohol. So a vineyard is somewhat off-limits.”
My brows rise, and I finish my fritter. “Isn’t she a full-grown adult?”
“Yeah, she is.” August’s eyes roll, tender smile lifting so many freckled stars on her cheeks. “I fear she’s also a certified good girl, though.”
Warmth settles deep in my chest. “How long have you two been friends?”
She hums, calculating. “Over a decade now. Two years after her family moved here, she transferred into my freshman class and caught me writing on a school computer.” Fondness saturates every inch of the woman before me.
“She’s always carried herself like a cloud, so far above the world, practically floating through life.
People in our school skirted around her.
I don’t know why. She’s always been rich, pretty, and elegant, so maybe she seemed untouchable to them.
Not only that, she entered mid-year, after cliques had already formed, so she spent the first few days alone.
Until she caught me writing. I’ve always been kind of picky about people, so I didn’t have any friends either.
I’ll never forget the way she lit up when she learned I was writing a fantasy romance.
I’ll never forget the moment the pretty, perfect cloud that had floated into my vicinity became the beautiful, blinding sun. She’s been my best friend ever since.”
My heart squeezes at the idea of having a friend think of me in the way August thinks of December. I’ve never had a friendship so precious before, and I’m a little jealous. Even from afar, their relationship is stunning to behold, breathtaking, and a little bit fantasy.
But of course it is.
Even though I have no delusions that August will ever remotely treasure me in the same way, from the first moment we corresponded she has still managed to weave magic into my world.
She is magic. A fantasy come alive. A dream tasked with walking among the mundane.
Her gaze cuts to me as she tears a piece off the baguette that came with her cheese board. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
Her gaze skitters away, toward the elegant glass walls beside us overlooking the vineyard spackled with rose bushes. She lifts her nose. “Just answer my question.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to without more information.”
She deflates, sighing dramatically. “Pity. I suppose not all mysteries can be unraveled.”
Indeed.
I remember a matter of great importance and pause before getting another fritter. “August.”
Sly, she glances at me, murmuring, “So we use actual names now?”
“Forgive me. My little lotus blossom.”
A finger of heat caresses her cheeks. “What?”
“I wanted to ask, what sorts of behaviors might constitute a third-act break up between us?”
She presses her lips together, to bite down her smile.
“What is it?” I ask.
“N-nothing.” She clears her throat. “It’s just…
Well. First, we’d have to actually be dating in order to break up, and in case you didn’t know, what we’re doing isn’t that.
I’ll let you know if that ever enters this story.
Second, if we ever do get so far, there won’t be a third-act.
A break up would be a break up. I’m not so fickle that I would ever break up with someone I’ve chosen to be with before I’ve tried everything else.
Breaking up isn’t a knee-jerk reaction. It’s the last resort. ”
If that isn’t the most terrifying thing I’ve heard all day. “So…what would prompt that last resort?”
“Cheating, obviously. Boredom, of course. I think I’ve been clear that so long as the toxic doesn’t leave me in a state of mind-numbing boredom, it’s not gonna be the trigger.
” Her thoughts drift as she considers. “If you hit me without consent, that’d do it, too, though.
There are different levels in the toxic that I’m willing to tolerate or even enjoy, and physical altercations are clear off the list.”
I stare. Then I parrot, “Without consent.”
August’s lashes flutter.
My heart races. “I can promise you that non-consensual violence is not remotely a concern.”
“I don’t think it would be, but I’m just saying.
You asked a question. This is the answer.
If December, Wynn, or Granee didn’t like you, that’d probably end it, too.
December’s disapproval is self-explanatory, and Granee’s obsessed with getting me hitched, so if she decides she isn’t actually all about us being together, I should probably rub two brain cells together and understand what that means. ”
That makes impeccable sense. “And your brother holds the same weight as them?”
“He’s a guy. He’s probably not gonna care what I’m doing in my love life unless it’s serious, so if he does care, it’s probably serious enough that I should reassess my life choices.
” August flashes a brilliant grin toward me.
“Basically, if you’re secretly a toxic mess, please make sure to keep the good boy act up in front of my family and friends so long as you wish to continue associating with me—because I feel I should remind you in case you missed it, we are not presently a couple.
So there’s no need to worry about breaking up. ”
Right. We’re not a couple. We’re just a vampire and his obsession-slash-enemy, battling to the death under the guise of enjoying one another’s company. I bet this isn’t even a date; it’s likely a scheme to bring about my demise.
Reaching for my glass of Coca Cola, I run my finger through the condensation and lift the weeping thing to my lips. “Speaking of secrets…”
August perks. “Yes? Secrets?”
“Would keeping things from you result in a break up—should we ever create something that could be broken?”
She gasps. “You’re keeping things from me?”
“Probably.”
Excitement sparkles in her eyes. “How? It’s been days. Literally days. And you’ve already confessed undying love. What else could there possibly be?”
“I wonder. But. I suppose your answer to my question determines how much you learn right now.”
She’s humming, vibrating, chewing her lip, and studying me. “Are they secrets that would hurt me?”
“I would hope not. I never want to hurt you.”
“The plot thickens,” she whispers, glowing.
My heart can hardly handle this. Bathed in the summer sun, dressed in clothes I bought for her, seated in this elegant restaurant, with me…she is a vision to behold.
And she’s vibrating. “I hate being told what can be shown or decoded from the surrounding narrative. We both already know I’m not a very offendable person, so as long as you don’t think that whatever secrets you’re keeping would hurt me, I’m excited to figure them out on my own.
Furthermore, it’s been mere days since we met, so you really don’t owe me anything, yet your wording implies that if I weren’t a fan of secrets, you’d disclose whatever portion you feel comfortable sharing with someone who is still an absolute stranger right now.
” She leans forward, palms planted beneath her chin.
“Whatever happens, I take responsibility, and I have to say…” Her cheeks tinge pink in the afternoon sunlight washing through the dazzling wall of windows.
“…I like that your brain knew to give me a choice. Not to give you any undue hope, but I think you’re…
fun. Not just fun, though. I don’t know. I think you get me.”
Hope strangles me as I fight to maintain my composure.
My soda burns on its way down my throat after I sip.
Setting the glass on its coaster, I hold the picture of effortless vampiric confidence in my brain and pray my tongue gets the memo.
“I assume this means I am so far living up to the standards of your perfect male lead?”
She ponders that for a moment, then her cheeks deepen in hue. “I like when you’re more aggressive, but I understand maintaining dignity in public spaces.” Her dark gaze holds mine. “You love me, right?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “I do.”
“Then strive to obsess and starve. Make me love you. Bring me to the brink of affection and push me off. You’re careful. I appreciate that. But you don’t need to be. Take as many chances as you’d like. I’m happiest when I don’t know what’s coming next.”
Chances are not my forte. Chances don’t fit well into the cells of a spreadsheet.
The closest I get to chance is via the use of statistical estimation, and even then, there are margins of error for a reason.
I may not always be able to conclude exacts, but I do know precisely the range of data I can expect from previous information.
“Is that too much to ask for?” she says while I’m busy arranging her words in my skull, trying to find the margin of error in this request.
“No.” I free a tight breath. “I’m just processing what it can mean.”
She giggles, retrieving another piece of cheese and popping it in her mouth. “Careful calculation isn’t a bad trait to have. I hope you pair it with devious schemes.”
Cutting my fingers through my blond wig, I wonder exactly the level of deviousness I’m capable of and hope only that my limits might rest just a smidge beyond hers.