Page 80 of The Light Within

Trailing off, Julien pressed his other hand to Cinn’s chest, kicking his heart into overdrive.

It was the look in Julien’s eye that sent Cinn into a spiralling panic.

“Don’t do it,” Cinn warned.

“Do what?”

“A dramatic declaration of… whatever. If you’re about to do that, I’ll throw you off this tower.” Cinn attempted to sound stern despite the heat creeping into his cheeks.

“What? I was only about to comment on the glorious nighttime view we’re both enjoying.” Julien threw his arms out wide.

“Oh, really?”

A mischievous grin danced across Julien’s face. “Oui, and the way it makes your eyes look like molten gold flecked with emerald, shimmering with an ethereal light that could only be captured in the most poetic of sonnets.”

Cinn rolled his entire head, nudging his elbow into Julien’s ribs. “Move over, Shakespeare.”

“You know what?” Julien pushed himself against Cinn, the cold bars of the railing digging into his back. “I think you secretly love all this mushy stuff.”

“No way.” Cinn shifted uncomfortably, ignoring the flutter of butterflies in his stomach that certainly didn’t exist.

“Oh, come on. You mean you don’t melt at the idea of us as star-crossed lovers, defying the odds under a blanket of shimmering Parisian lights?”

Cinn groaned and covered his ears. An involuntary twitch cracked the edges of his mouth. “Please stop.”

Julien moved away from him, folding his arms. “I guess I’ll save my question for when we’re on the bus later, then. Sitting next to the old lady who smells like cats.”

Cinn studied Julien, but he gave nothing away.

“What question?”

“Non, it’s fine. I’ll save it for when we’re down there, near the trash bins.”

Groaning, Cinn pushed against Julien’s chest. “I don’t even believe you have a question.”

A silent stillness took hold of them, which stretched into the night. Cinn waited for Julien to say something else, but something was wrong with him. He opened and shut his mouth, and kept glancing over Cinn’s shoulder. Was he… nervous?

“My question is…”

Cinn waited. And waited.

What the hell? Was something lodged in Julien’s throat?

“I…”

Another pause.

“Oh, stop,” Cinn said, whacking Julien and making to turn away.

“Hold on!” Julien clutched his arm, a flash of desperation in his wide eyes. “Fine.” He took a deep breath. “As we’ve come to this apparently romantic location, I should ask you if you want to be my boyfriend.”

Cinn almost choked on his own spit. He couldn’t have said why, but that was the last thing he expected. A dozen snarky comments lined themselves up on Cinn’s lips—did that word burn your tongue?—but he swallowed them down.

“Well?” Julien demanded, his face displaying a soft vulnerability Cinn had never seen before, his fingers tightening nervously around the railing. “I guess that’s a no, then?”

Cinn did his best not to laugh. “For fuck’s sake, Julien. Obviously yes. You didn’t need to bring me up the metal-beam monstrosity to ask me that.”

“But how else could I wax poetic about the shape of your face compared to the moon? Ever so shiny, ever so round?” Julien poked Cinn’s cheek. “It’s not my fault you demanded a date.”

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