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“I didn’t?” He looks up in thought, then back into my eyes. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“Why do you want to go on a date with me?”
“Because I haven’t properly courted you.” Is he for real?
“Okay, you’re being too nice, and it’s freaking me out.”
He scowls, puffing his lips. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s more like it.”
“Espie—“
“You’re calling me by my name now? Are you feeling feverish?” I reach across and press the back of my hand to his forehead, then instantly regret it because we both seem to react to our skin touching. It’s like a chill sweeps over the room, a ringing in my ears like an explosion just happened nearby. I retract my hand quickly, and his bright eyes toggle between mine.
“Are you gonna let me cook you dinner or not?“
I consider it for a moment, only to make him wait, and then I nod.
“Great.I’ll be by your room at seven to take you down to the main kitchen.” He knocks on the table with a smug look and stands to his feet, heading for the door.
I watch him leave, bouncing away like he’s winning some game that I haven't figured out yet. After he disappears from the doorway, I take a deep breath like I’ve been stuck underwater for our entire conversation, and I’m just now coming up for air.
“Interesting.” I whisper to myself, perplexed, while I finish the last page of my book. It’s interesting— my book, and Adrik’s strange and sudden interest in courting me for no reason. We’re stuck together regardless, unless Vince has made any progress against it. He wouldn’t risk updating me anyway, so I just have to wait it out. I’ll admit I'm concerned what someone like him would even know about cooking, but I guess letting him cook for me isn’t a horrible idea. Dating Adrik Mikhailov, is, though— a bad idea.
* * *
“He wants to make you dinner?”Olive’s confusion is written across her face as she closes our bedroom door.
“Yeah. I thought it was weird too.” I shrug and sit down on the bed.
“Is it a date?” She lowers her voice and takes a step closer to me, flopping back on the bed. I turn towards her with a nod.
“He said he wants to go on more dates or something like that. Like it was implied. I don’t know, is that normal? Do guys just tell you what they want like that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, suitors always just bought my affection. Dates were somewhat assumed.”
“So, you want him to buy you more things?” She slowly asked, voice going higher at the tail end of her sentence. I shake my head, scrunching my nose.
“No. I don’t know what I want.”
“Well, clearly he does.” Her eyes go wide with her suggestive tone, and I smack her with a pillow. She squeals and hits me back.
“I’m serious, Olive. Vince was clear about me not…” I raise my blows implicitly, and her face falls flat.
“Fucking him.” She grins and I roll my eyes.
“Yes, that.”
“Okay, well, the man is making you food. He’s not trying to fuck you on the table.”
“Olive!” I blink, wide-eyes, coughing out a laugh or gasp, not sure which one came first. She chuckles, through her teeth, shoulders to her ears. “Not funny.” I shake my head.
“Then why are you grinning?” She pokes my knee and I slap her hand away teasingly.
“Help. Please.” I relent.
