Page 71 of Shadows of Nightshade
“Do you like honey?” Damen rambled on.
“Yes.” Who didn’t?
He had to be running out of questions soon, right? Besides,who cared? Some of these questions were asinine. What did it matter what shampoo I used?
But at least he stopped staring at me in that weird way.
Still, how did he have so much energy? My attention drifted to his extra-large coffee cup as a stab of self-deprecation and realization shot through me.
How did I not realize? Finn, too, was adversely affected by caffeine in such a way. It was my fault for not stopping it, and now, I must suffer the consequences.
“I have another question for you,” Damen began, and this time he reached across the table. The suddenness of the action—the feel of his hand over mine—made me jump.
“What?” Why did my pulse skip?
“Do you have any distinguishable marks on your body?” Damen grinned. His gray, caffeine-affected eyes sparkled innocently. Yet, the sudden turn in questioning made my breath catch in my throat.
Maybe I had misheard? “Wh-what?”
Damen’s smile faltered as his attention moved to my trembling lips.
“Why are you scared?” he asked, correctly picking up on my hesitation. His mischievous expression dropped. “Everyone has birthmarks and such.”
Yes, I knew that, but…
Why ask me that particular question?
“Excuse me, Professor Abernathy.”
I started as a wavy-haired brunette appeared beside our small, round table, shattering the momentary delusion that the outside world had ceased to exist. Damen’s constant questioning had thrown me off my guard, and I’d missed her approaching.
Still, I was grateful for the interruption.
I sucked in a breath, willing my flustered thoughts to settle ashe was distracted. The girl—presumably another student—pushed her dainty fists against her faded jeans as she squared her polka dot patterned-covered shoulders and faced Damen.
“I was in your Introduction to Psych class last year,” she began and shifted her weight to her other leg. Clearly this was a much-practiced speech. “And you told me that we could go out once I wasn’t your student anymore. So, I’m here. I’m ready to be your girlfriend.”
I was shocked. His foolish lines actually worked?
I leisurely sipped my drink and allowed my attention to move to Damen.
How would he respond? I didn’t want to miss a single moment. Judging from his attitude thus far, he was probably thrilled at his potential success at having secured a mate.
But what I saw surprised me.
His relaxed expression had dropped. Instead, his happy eyes had turned into sharp alertness, and he was frowning. “No, thanks,” he said. “You’re a cute girl, but I think there’s been a miscommunication. I don’t date.”
I blinked. How was that? His entire demeanor thus far had indicated the exact opposite.
Her skin flushed, and she stepped back. “Oh,” she replied, her tone hurried. “I didn’t mean it likethat. I was just saying—”
“The answer is ‘no.’ The slip in your words indicates that you’re far more invested than I’d like,” Damen interrupted. “Now, please leave; I’m in the middle of a conversation.” He turned from her and picked up his cup. I stared at him, struggling to understand how—within the space of one instant—he could switch from flamboyant playboy to this cold, surly person.
Her shyness passed, and she moved closer, pressing her hands against the top of the table. “That’s not what I meant,” she said again.
Our table was small, and since Damen was so tall, his shins touched my knees. It was only because of that that I knew something was wrong.
He appeared to be the picture of indifference, but I could feel that his leg—the furthest away from her—was bouncing up and down.
