They would just try to stop me, and honestly, I’ve had enough of it. Them all working together to keep me so busy was smart, I’ll give them that, but also bullshit.
I’m not sure if I’m more upset that they did it or that I fell for it.
It’s early enough that the halls are still mostly empty, and while I don’t technically have a meeting with Dimitri until nine, I know he won’t mind me being early; he never has before.
I hardly get to press my knuckles to the door before it all but flies open, and I’m yanked inside, the thud of it closing behind me the only indication I get as I’m pulled into his warm, hard chest.
The scent of him surrounds me the same way his arms do, and I’m safe.
He pulls back far before I’m ready for him to, peering down at me with an arched brow.
“What?” I ask, fighting the urge to fidget under his gaze.
“How are you feeling?”
I don’t really want to lie to him, but I also don’t want to tell him that my headache has just become a part of who I am.
I’ll deal.
“Better.” Not a complete lie, I do feel better now after sleeping a million hours, but not perfect.
He watches me for another very long second, and I get the feeling he isn’t buying it, but just before I can cave under the pressure, he looks away. His gaze moves to my hair, and suddenly, lying isn’t my biggest concern anymore.
What if he hates the purple?
Is Dimitri my boyfriend? Should I have asked him before I dyed my hair?
Shit, I’ve never had a boyfriend before, unless you count the elementary school ones where we said we were boyfriend and girlfriend out on the playground and then never spoke again.
Yeah, I don’t think those count.
Shit.
He doesn’t look upset.
“Do you hate it?” I force out the question, sounding small and pathetic.
“What?” His brows pulled together, and the smile all but wipes from his face as he looks down at me in confusion. “No. I think it’s very fitting. You look beautiful, Wren.”
I don’t need to see myself to know my smile is wide at his compliment; I can feel it in the way my cheeks ache. With my happiness comes a need for me to explain my behavior, born from years of trauma, I’m sure, but I’ll worry about that later.
“I was worried because I just did it. I didn’t say anything or ask what you thought, and if we’re…” I stop talking abruptly, snapping my mouth closed before I say something silly.
What if that’s not how he sees us?
Dimitri stands before me, ever the gentleman, waiting for me to get it together.
Yeah, you and me both.
“If we’re what?” He asks when it becomes clear I’m not going to continue on my own.
“Nothing!” I squeak, shaking my head and praying to the gods of old and new that he will drop it.
Of course, the gods have never done me any favors, though, and they don’t start now.
Dimitri’s lip quirks up as he takes a step toward me, the space between us already so small that he’s nearly on top of me, and I take a step back in order to be able to hold his gaze.
“Wren,” he says my name like he’s here to worship me, like it’s a prayer, and I feel the ache for him everywhere but mostly in my pussy.
