Page 72 of Shadows of Nightshade
Why was he nervous?
Thankfully, though, I had experience in these matters. Usually, it only took a small distraction for most admirers to lose confidence. They only needed something to give them an escape to avoid further embarrassment.
But this school was a new place—a fresh start. Did I really want to go down this route again?
“Did you know that the muffins here are really good?” I said. Even though my heart was pounding, and Damen and the girl looked at me like I was the most outlandish person ever, I pressed forward. “Have you tried them yet?”
Damen’s features relaxed, but he was still, obviously, confused. “No,” he replied.
“What about you?” I asked her, my chest tight. Her plans had been derailed, and the upset redness in her cheeks was gone.
“No…” Her voice was quieter now, so much I couldn’t hear. I could read what she was saying easily enough. “Maybe I’ll try one.” She’d looked to the floor, but her gaze flickered up to Damen as she added, “Sorry.”
And then she was gone, her back to us as she moved to the line.
“Are you sure you’re in the right major?” Damen pursed his lips as he watched her retreat. “You seem to have a knack for psychology.”
I scoffed as the weight pushing down against my shoulders vanished. I’d helped him at great risk to myself, and he insultedme. “Hardly.” I pushed my half-empty cup to the center of the table. I was no longer in the mood. “S-sorry for interrupting, but there was no other way without someone’s feelings getting hurt.”
“Yes.” Damen braced his chin in his hand. He’d returned to staring at me in that analytical way that caused my palms to sweat. “I’ve noticed you’re a fan of redirection techniques.”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Why don’t you date?” I asked.
He’d opened his mouth, probably to redirect the question back my way since talking about himself was apparently his least favorite thing to do, but then he hesitated. “I go out with people,” he said after a short pause.
“That’s not what I asked.” Now it was my turn to cross my arms over the table and stare him down. Being the inquisitor was kind of fun. “Have you ever even been in a committed relationship?”
Judging by his attitude, and the way his forehead wrinkled, probably not. His flirting had been surface-level, obviously without the barest hint of sincerity. It was quite clear that he was afraid of sharing himself too deeply.
“No,” Damen replied. He crossed his arms, defensive, and my self-assurance faltered.
Did I make him mad?
“What about you?” he asked.
Darn it, he did it again! I stared at him as my blood rushed to my head.
“Have you ever been in a serious relationship?” Damen was being meddlesome, but this time I couldn’t blame him. I’d prodded first.
“N-no.” My face was warm, but my hands were cold. “Not really…” The institution of dating usually led to placing oneself in vulnerable situations. I could barely stomach the thought.
“Really?” Damen frowned.
I shook my head and pressed my hands against my cheeks. This was becoming a dangerous conversation. “I had a crush on someone. It just never went anywhere.”
There was only one person who was safe and understood me. He would never push me to do anything I didn’t want.
Or at least, that’s what I’d always thought.
“Oh.” Damen’s face fell, and his voice turned contemplative. “Finn,” he added.
I sunk into my seat, nodding.
I must sound so pathetic, especially to him.
“Don’t worry.” Damen grabbed my hand. “I’ll find out what’s happening with him.” There was a solidness to his statement—a determination heavy in his unmoving posture—that made his appeal skyrocket. “I promise you, I’ll fix everything.”
