I pull my hand from behind my back.
“I’ve got a little something for you.”
His expression softens when I press the champagne-colored gift box into his hands. Inside is arose quartz wand.
“A gift for the inner chakra,” I whisper.
He opens the box discreetly like he’s checking his hand of cards. He gives me the kind of smile that radiates from his eyes. It makes them soft and glowing. It’s a combination that keeps shooting arrows through my heart.
Ever since that day we tore down the shed to free the tree in his garden, I’ve been chasing the high of making him happy with the smallest gestures. Turns out, I like being the reason he smiles. He deserves that, not my stupidity.
“Thank you, Sapphire. I appreciate your commitment to my energy alignment.”
“Of course, love. I’ll make sure we use it… mindfully.”
He smiles, bumping my shoulder. I turn; Charlotte is restocking a jar of raspberry-flavoured condoms, wearing her best poker face like she didn’t overhear a word.
“I’m going to say hi to my business partner. Quick chat. Won’t take long. Pick whatever you like and Charlotte will put it on my account. No whips, please.” I push my finger against his sternum, making him laugh.
As I make my way up the stairs, I look back just in time to see Charlotte walking over to him, probably to ask if he needs any advice on the lube.
Charlotte points at the box in his hands and I can faintly hear her saying she has one of those as well. Then she takes a bottle from the shelf she swears it's the best, stacking it on top of the box.
I can tell Yosh feels awkward. He’s been on edge ever since that kiss-and-tell stunt Deep Diver pulled. And now we’re in Amsterdam, standing in my sex shop, where lust isn’t exactly taboo.
I wonder if he regrets joining me on this trip. Or being with me at all. Maybe I need to put in a little more effort to show him something normal in my life. Chaos keeps adding up since we arrived and it’s not even noon.
Chapter forty-three
Yosh
There’s nothing like the scent of coffee beans and cinnamon on a cold day. This little café in the heart of Amsterdam takes me back to winter mornings on campus, hiding in a corner, trying to make myself invisible as I studied my notes with a steaming mug of coffee warming my hands.
The place is filled with people escaping the cold.
I’m sitting at a table by the window, the glass fogged from the temperature difference on either side.
From here, I can see how alive the city is, and I have to say, I’m fascinated by the way Amsterdam moves. It’s a chaotic collection of little events.
Next to the café there’s a group of activists chalking slogans onto the cobblestones. A tram rounds the corner, startling me as it appears out of nowhere.
A couple of tourists jump an inch off the pavement when the bells clang. Those same tourists stop on the bridge to take a selfie, pissing off locals when they block the walkway.
And then there’s also a tulip vendor, two dalmatians walking their owner, and a mom with three kids on her bike. They almost crash into the same path-blocking, almost-run-over-by-the-tram tourists who are now reading their map upside down.
I close my eyes for a moment, something I’ve done more than once today.
I don’t notice Tom until he sets two mugs on the table and drops into the chair beside me.
“Here you go. Your fancy vegan soy-whatever matcha spice no sugar latte. I’m surprised you didn't ask them to leave the liquid out.”
That smug grin, that cocky tilt of his chin. Sometimes I just want to strangle him.
“Two months. Two months of us together and I still haven’t figured out if that’s flirting or a cry for attention.”
“My sincere apologies, love. You do something to me. My filter disappears and suddenly I’m spouting the dumbest shit. I think you could call it a bit of both. I’m a flirt and I always ache for your attention.”
I glance at his mug. Plain black coffee.
