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"You sure? You don't sound convinced," she teased.
I rolled my eyes, and we started walking toward the entrance. "I'm sure."
"You said they're caring." Sage tilted her head to the side as she considered the word. "But that didn't sound like a good thing in your book. Do you not like when people care about you? I have heard that not being cared for builds character, though the long term effects don't make it seem worth it."
I laughed. "No, I enjoy being cared for. My parents just…do it in their unique way."
"There's that negative connotation again." Sage opened the door for me. I stepped into a dimly lit restaurant with enough indoor trees to make it feel like I was stepping into a rainforest instead.
"How many in your party?" the host asked us.
Sage held up her fingers. "Two."
She nodded and gave us two small glasses. I couldn't mask the confusion on my face when I took mine.
"Have you two been here before?" the host asked.
"I have." Sage nodded and looked at me. "I'll explain it to you."
"Very curious about why I would need an explanation about a restaurant."
The host laughed. "You're in for a treat. Have fun."
Sage grabbed my hand when I frowned at the host's statement, and I curled my fingers around hers, even though pain spiked up my arm. I bit down on my inner cheek to stave off a groan.
“The Treehouse is an experience,” Sage started. She led me down a hallway where the walls were filled with intricate, gold framed oil paintings from top to bottom. Every painting in the room was a landscape. Oceans and mountains. Rivers and forests. The colors were bright, loud in their celebration of the mundane.
"So I've been told." I stopped in front of an ocean painted purple.
"We eat while we walk and look at the art." Sage let go of my hand but kept close enough for me to feel her body heat. "There are multiple buildings all surrounding this one fake tree. They connect with bridges in between. Each building has a different art theme, and they change all the themes every couple of months."
"That's such a cool idea," I murmured while still taking in the hall. "Do you come here a lot?"
"Once, which is how I know we probably won't be able to go through all the rooms."
"Why? Too many?" I stopped marveling at the art to look at her. My cheeks burned when I realized she hadn't been staring at the paintings as intently as I'd been. Instead, she'd been watching me.
"Some of the rooms are high," Sage said. "Lots of stairs to climb. The suspension bridge can get pretty shaky. I know how you feel about heights. I thought this place was still somewhere you'd enjoy, even if we didn't get to see it all."
I brushed at the corner of my mouth in case her staring was because of something on my face. "I'll tough it out. I can manage."
She shook her head. "No, you don't have to."
"I want to. I want to see as much as we can. Besides, I'm not a coward." I gave her a look. "Shouldn't you know that by now?"
"Eh, the jury's still out on that," she joked. "But if you want to prove it…"
"And here comes the peer pressure." I smiled. "I thought we were too old for that?"
"Speak for yourself, Pastel."
"Fine. How can I prove myself?"
"Tell me what's up with your family? They invite you out, and you look like you were going to punch something. I didn't think a Disney princess who fed ducks during her lunch break would ever result in punching something. Hell, I've angered you, and the worst you've done was pout."
"I'll have you know, I don't just feed him, he keeps me company."
"See, that. You easily made friends with a forest creature. You're sweet. Not someone who throws punches."
