Page 73 of Hilarina and the Ogre

Hilary was revolted. “A what?”

“It takes off the white layer on your tongue. It’s the best.”

Hilary almost banished him for that one, but somehow even that look made Trenton immeasurably happy. He was collecting so many new expressions. “I’ll buy you one.”

“Don’t.”

“As a housewarming gift.”

“I don’t need it.”

But even the giddy joy and adrenaline of having so much of Hilary couldn’t hold up for everything. Trenton lost some of his gumption when the big light went off and the little lamp on the nightstand became a spotlight for the bed. It reminded him of something important.

Hilary saw him fiddling. “Need to pee?”

Trenton had to say it. Just had to make it come out somehow. He took a breath. “I’m a virgin.”

If Hilary had been looking for revenge, he now had it. The grin that dawned on the man’s face was so mischievous that, despite the embarrassment, it was kind of infectious. “Thanks for the update,” the man said.

Trenton could feel the heat on his face, but that’s all it was. It wasn’t like the tongue scraper. There was no revulsion on Hilary’s face. And why would there be? Hilary knew everything. Of course he would know that too. “I just mean that I—I wouldn’t be very good.”

The grin was only spreading. “Looking for tips? Who’s the lucky lady?”

Trenton knew he’d opened himself up for teasing, but he still wanted to duck and run. Hilary caught him by the arm. “You don’t need to worry about things like that.”

Trenton hated how much relief that brought. It made him feel clumsy and ugly. “I’m not unwilling to learn. If that was what you—I wouldn’t refuse you.” But that was worse and worse. Now he sounded like some high-handed courtesan deigning to offer herself. “That is, I’m not—I would be honored to—” The shovel in his hand just wanted to keep digging. He gave up and covered his face.

Hilary laughed, but it was a nice laugh. A kind laugh. “I know I should have interrupted, but you looked so determined to get it out.” He pulled at the hand. “Do you think that’s why I brought you here? What kind of low-minded stalker do you think you have?”

Trenton hadn’t even considered Hilary might take it that way. “No! That’s not—I know you were only being kind. Protecting me.”

“You want to be here?”

Had that ever been in doubt? “Yes.”

“Then there’s nothing you need to worry about. I didn’t bring you here to be my mail-order bride. You don’t have to earn your keep or be grateful or even talk to me if you don’t want to. You don’t owe me anything. I wanted you here, and I have you here now. That’s all.”

But that wasn’t all. And he did owe Hilary, whatever the man said. Maybe Hilary was fine with being a glorified babysitter, but that didn’t sit right with him, and he wanted to say so.

But then Hilary held up the copy of Anne of Green Gables and spoke the magic words. “Have one more chapter in you?”

Hilary was asleep before the end of the second page. That was when Trenton remembered the man had gone off shift that morning and should have been asleep all day. Instead, he’d shown up at the restaurant, roped himself into being a server, stopped his stalk-ee from putting more murders on his rap sheet, and dragged him home to play the gracious host for the rest of the evening. Exhausting didn’t begin to cover it. Actually, Trenton should have been tired himself after everything that had happened, but he found himself looking at Hilary, brain too full of changes to find any sleepiness at all. It felt wrong to stare at him while he was sleeping, though. How had Hilary just let him in here to do that? Didn’t he know how dangerous that was? Inviting a murderer into his home and then sleeping so soundly without so much as a locked door between them.

Trenton forced his attention back to the book. It had been a long time since he’d read it. A very long time. So long that the boy who first read it felt like a complete stranger to himself now, and not least because they only shared a few memories between them. He couldn’t even say for sure what his younger self had liked so much about the book. Anne was painfully naïve and drowning in herself. Why would he connect with a character like that? But Hilary was Diana for sure. How lovely he was. No wonder Shirley was obsessed with him.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep. It must have been while he was reading. Maybe that was why he had mixed up dreams of running through fields of tall grass calling for someone, but not hearing his own voice, or even who he was calling, just knowing how important it was to find them, and to find them soon.

Chapter Twenty-One

Not that Kind of Stalker

Trenton woke to a phone alarm set as loud as it would go. He reached instinctively over to silence it and became aware of the weight on his chest.

It was Hilary, and with his hair mussed and mouth open with a bit of dried drool in the corners it was the most impossible thing the man had shown him yet. Seeing it, Trenton couldn’t help but wonder what his mother would say if she could see him here like this, in bed with such a handsome man, drowning in good fortune. She’d probably kill him. That is, if she even believed him. He was having a difficult time believing it himself, even with the evidence right in front of his eyes.

He set his hand to one of those shoulders. “Hilary? Do you need to get up now?”

The man made an irritated sort of noise and turned his face away, determined to sleep. Unfairly cute, it felt awful to shake him again. Or maybe not. He wanted to see what else a sleepy Hilary might do.