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He held his hand out to me and the warm mischievous look in his eyes promised me the world. And I knew he could give it to me. Had he actually been offering. But Apollo had never once thought of offering me the world, only the parts he was interested in. It was to be expected, but it was also a stark reminder that we had a long way to go before our relationship was anything close to resembling real.
I put such thoughts out of my head and put my hand into his. There were times to worry about my – our – future and times to enjoy the present, and this was most definitely the latter. While our relationship was currently for show, there were more perks than public displays of affection in front of the whole school. More private perks where I didn’t hate him quite so much.
Apollo helped me out of the car and shut the door behind me.
“Your usual table’s ready,” the maître d’ told him. Not me. Him.
Apollo nodded, his hand going to the small of my back as we were led inside. “Perfect.”
The weather was still warm enough that the jacket I wore was decorum only. So we still had to go through the palaver of taking it off and checking it. But this wasn’t the sort of place where you got a stub in exchange.
“Usual to start, Mr Callahan?” Apollo was asked as we went to our table.
“Yes, thanks,” Apollo said with a smile. He looked at me. “Unless you want something else?” he asked me.
Surprised by the thoughtfulness, I shook my head. “Usual is fine.”
Apollo cocked his head as he looked me over. “You sure?”
I smiled. “I’ll have what you’re having,” I said, giving in.
He grinned warmly. “All right. The lady will have what I’m having,” he told the maître d’.
He inclined his head. “Certainly, sir.”
At our table, Apollo pulled my chair out for me and kissed my cheek before I sat down, then he went to his own seat. When I looked up at him, his eyes were warm and taking me in carefully.
“What?” I asked with a laugh.
He shrugged. “Nothing. You look really nice.”
I shifted in my seat. “I don’t look any different than usual.”
And I didn’t. I wore a simple scoop neck dress, fitted in the bodice, flared in the skirt, with short cap sleeves, in a soft rose pink. I’d added a strand of pearls at my neck, another on my wrist, and one more around my waist. My hair was in my standard go-to ‘going out’ curls and I had on my white pumps. It was an outfit he’d probably seen too many times for society’s approval, but I liked it. I felt good in it. We’d had some of our best dates with me in that dress.
“No,” he agreed. “You don’t. You always look really nice.”
I scoffed. “You might not think that when you see me first thing in the morning.” When, not if.
His grin grew more rueful. “I’m sure I will.”
Because it was a given it would happen one day. I didn’t know when our relationship would progress from for show to something more real. When we left school? When he put an unnecessarily large diamond on my finger? When we’d signed the papers and I was officially Mrs Callahan? But it would happen. We both knew that and pretending otherwise wouldn’t do either of us any good.
Apollo reached over the table for my hand and I gave it to him. He ran his fingers over my new ring and an uncertainty crept into his eyes.
“Do you like it?” he asked, his voice low, quiet.
I saw then that Florence had been right. There was a part of him – no matter how small – that was trying to compensate for his extra curricular activities the best way he’d been shown how. Not in the way most people would think, but because he’d chosen them over our friendship. As much as I hated that side of him – hated who he’d become with everyone else – there was still the boy I loved. Very, very deep down.
I nodded and squeezed his hand. “I really do,” I told him with the most sincere, reassuring voice I had. “I love it. Thank you.”
The relief flooded his eyes visibly. They softened instantly, the corners of his lips tipping up gently like he was about to smile. This was the side of Apollo I rarely saw anymore. This was Apollo without the mask. Not that he ever really wore a mask with me – he never hid his thoughts or feelings from me like he so often did with nearly the rest of the world, he wasn’t just Archer 2.0 – but I watched him wear it for everyone else. I watched him put on the show. I had to help him put on the show.
But not here. Not now.
Now, it was just us. Just him and me and us. Free from watchful eyes. Free from people speculating about how solid our relationship – and therefore our fathers’ contract – really was. We didn’t have to be the perfect God and his perfect princess. We could just be Apollo and Harlow, the way we’d been as kids.
The most obvious sign was when the waiter brought us two beers.
