“Shall we begin?” he asks.
My heart can’t seem to stop racing. “Begin what exactly?”
He clicks open a pen. “The examination.” And he presses play.
?
For the umpteenth time,Kaicho wa Maid-samahas been paused, and I ambraced, ready for what Dominic is about to say. After he finishes taking his notes, he glances sidelong at me. “Do I need to be prepared to jump off a building in order to kiss you? Or am I allowed to just…” He leans in. “Do it. Without consent.” His head tilts toward the screen, where Usui has just landed in the school pool after, you know, stealing Misaki’s first kiss and flinging himself from the roof. “Like your ideal male specimen did.”
I gulp, flushed, delirious, high on my flute glass of—it should be noted—non-alcoholic Welch’s grape juice. Cradling the cool, condensation-covered glass in my fingers, Ibubbleandbuzz. “Are you criticizing the greatest male lead of all time?”
“Of course not. I admire his initiative.” Dominic angles himself, closer, and confiscates my flute glass before caging me to the pillows.
I sink beneath the press of his nearness, and he tips my chin up on the crook of his finger.
Radiant, a smile settles on his face, and his blond hair gleams in the fairy lights all around. “What’ll it be, little saint?”
I. Melt. “S-surely, you’re not allowed to do this.”
“Whyever not?” The playful edge in his expression and voice areexactlymy favored archetype. Mischief and casual disregard for insecurity dance across his warm eyes. The heated flare in his cheeks only serves to add an additional layer ofobsessionto the scene, and I am struck thoroughly by it. “Last I checked,” he whispers, “this was well within the parameters of our guidelines.”
Yes, well. I should probably revisit those now that I’ve given himUsuias a template for anything. Man’s a legitimate stalker at some points in this show. Were he less beautiful, who knows whether or not his more favorable character traits would balance the truly inappropriate levels of boundary hopping he participates in.
“You’d tell me if I were going too far, wouldn’t you?” Dominic asks, lifting himself an inch back. “If I’m crossing a line—”
“Don’t break the suspension of disbelief,” I breathe. “I’m internal monologuing.”
He puffs a laugh and settles back in, resting his forehead against mine. “Could you narrate that bit of monologue for me, then?”
I heat. “No, thank you.”
“Communication is important outside of fiction.” His finger curls around a lock of my hair, then skates down my cheek and across my neck. His thumb finds a home at my pulse, and his eyes close. “You’re racing for me.”
I sure am.
“I can’t…orshouldn’t, rather, assume what you’re thinking or feeling. I’m not the one getting high on the mystery as I fill my living room with murderboards about you. I want to clearly know everything you are, so I can catalog the details in a spreadsheet, like a normal person. You can just tell me every filthy little thing outright—no secrets. Because what could you possibly gain by keeping your secrets from me?”
“Did you just call me abnormal?”
“Yes. Did you just dodge my question?”
“Yes.” Cautious, I lift my hand and cup his cheek. Warm. So, so warm. It’s practically blazing.
His eyelids half open, and he leans into my hand. “Are you fabricating suspense by not revealing your thoughts? Do you suspect someone’s watching you build dramatic irony?”
Wouldn’t that be something?
I inhale deeply—practically tasting him he’s so close. “I was just thinking…would any of this be okay if you weren’t quite this pretty? Would I still look at you and feel my heart pound? Would I be unsettled or scared? What role does attraction play in everything else? Is it superficial to think I might like you so soon because you’re beautiful and confident enough to take advantage of it?Areyou taking advantage of it? Are you even confident?” I skate my touch across his red cheeks. “Or…are you just this desperate to play the role I’ve asked for? And if that’s the case, why?”
His gaze slips off me. “I am confident in many things. With you…I find myself more on the edge of hopeful than anything else. Largely because you think like this.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re happy. With your life. With the worlds that you build. I’m keenly aware how superfluous I am. You’re not going to be swayed by my appearance or my actions at face value. You’re going to analyze them. And if anything falls short of your ideal…you know you don’t need me.”
My chest twists. “What happened to us being inevitable?”
His gaze cuts back, and something devilish ignites as he paints a fingertip across my lips. “What…was that, my little lotus blossom?”
