21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Beau Drewitt
“She makes my non-beating heart race.”
One new message:
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
What building has the most stories?
I stare at the text from Elowen, for a moment, caught off guard by the tug at the corner of my mouth.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
The library, obviously. Are you trying to flirt with me through dad jokes?
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Maybe I just wanted to see if your sense of humor is as dusty as your bookshelves?
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Dusty? I’ll have you know I dust every night. Religiously.
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
A man of routine. Terrifying.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
And you? No routine? What do you do for work?
I can’t let her know that I’m already aware of what she does for a living.
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
I’m a therapist. More like mild inconvenience with a splash of unpredictability.
Perfect. We have officially established all the things I already knew. All caught up. Mostly. Beau- 1. Universe- 1.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
A deadly combination.
There was a pause. I watch the typing bubble come and go twice before another message pops up.
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
You didn’t let me pay for the book, so now you have to suffer at least one *terrifyingly bad* dad-joke daily. It’s only fair.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
This seems less like suffering and more like an incentive.
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Don’t encourage me. I have a whole notes folder.
I smile, really smile.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Then I guess I’ll have to start preparing comebacks. Or riddles of my own?
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
Challenge accepted.
Also, I’m still going to pay you eventually.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
And I’ll still refuse.
Let’s see who tires first.
Another pause.
From: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
I’m very stubborn.
To: Elowen Briar (Damsel in Distress):
So am I.
But I suspect you’ll make losing still feel like winning.
Fuck. I need her. I want her. She’s mine, end of discussion. I’ll make sure of it.