Page 92 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

I nodded, though my hands tightened around the mug. "Just processing. It's strange to think there might be a face, a name to put with all this. Makes it more real somehow."

Theo set his tablet aside completely, giving me his full attention—a gesture I was beginning to recognize as significant for him. "That's a normal psychological response. Abstract threats become more concrete when personified."

"Is that your way of saying it's okay to be scared?" I asked with a small smile.

"Yes," Theo replied simply. "Fear is an adaptive evolutionary response designed to enhance survival. It would be more concerning if you weren't experiencing some level of anxiety."

I laughed softly, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "You have a way of making scary things sound so logical."

Theo's lips quirked in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "Logic provides structure for understanding emotional experiences. I find it... comforting." He paused, studying me. "Does it help you as well?"

I considered this, taking another sip of tea. "Actually, yes. When you break it down like that, it feels more manageable somehow. Less overwhelming."

"Good," Theo said, and there was genuine warmth beneath his analytical tone. "That's my intention."

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping our tea. I studied Theo's profile, the strong line of his jaw, the way his glasses sat precisely on the bridge of his nose. Of all four Alphas, he was the most enigmatic to me—so controlled, so precise, yet with flashes of something deeper beneath the surface.

"You're staring," he observed, his voice neutral but curious as he met my gaze.

Heat rushed to my cheeks at being caught. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"About what?" Theo asked, his head tilting slightly in that analytical way of his.

I hesitated, then decided on honesty. "About you, actually. I feel like I know the others better somehow. You're... harder to read."

Theo considered this, his expression thoughtful. "I've been told that before. Social interaction doesn't come as naturally to me as it does to Lucas or Gabriel." He adjusted his glasses again, a gesture I was beginning to recognize as a self-soothing habit. "I process emotions differently. More internally."

"That doesn't mean you feel them less," I observed quietly. Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, at being understood.

"No," he agreed softly. "It doesn't."

There was something vulnerable in his admission that made my heart squeeze. I reached out, my hand hovering briefly before covering his where it rested on the counter.

"I like that about you," I said. "The way you see the world. It's... clarifying."

Theo looked down at our hands, a slight furrow appearing between his brows as if he were analyzing some complex puzzle. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his hand beneath mine until our palms met, his long fingers intertwining with mine.

"Most people find my analytical nature off-putting," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "Too clinical. Too detached."

"I don't," I replied simply. "It makes me feel safe, actually. Like you see all the pieces that others might miss." Theo's eyes met mine, and I was struck by how intense they were when looking at me.

I set my mug down, gathering my courage. "At dinner the other night, when we all talked... you didn't say much about how you felt. About this situation. About me."

Theo was quiet for a moment, his analytical mind clearly working through his response. "I'm not as verbally expressive as Lucas or as physically demonstrative as Dakota," he finally said. "But that doesn't mean my feelings are any less significant."

"And what are those feelings?" I asked softly, surprising myself with my boldness.

Theo met my gaze directly, his eyes intense behind his glasses. "Fascination. Admiration. Desire." Each word was delivered with careful precision, as if he'd selected them from a vast internal vocabulary for their exact meaning. "You're intellectually stimulating, emotionally resilient, and aesthetically pleasing." He paused, his thumb moving in a small circle over the back of my hand. "In simpler terms, you intrigue me on every level."

My breath caught at his directness. There was something deeply intimate about Theo's analytical assessment—as if he'd studied me thoroughly and found me worthy of his attention. It affected me in ways I hadn't expected.

"Thank you for being honest with me," I said, my voice slightly unsteady. "I appreciate that you don't... sugarcoat things."

"Sugar-coating serves no practical purpose," Theo replied, though his expression had softened. "Clarity is preferable."

I smiled, finding his literal interpretation endearing. "I agree."

Theo's eyes dropped to my lips briefly before returning to meet my gaze. "May I kiss you, Vivian?" he asked, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something deeper—desire, perhaps, carefully controlled.

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