Page 50 of Reflections of Peonies
“I missed you,” he said again. “I skipped classes every day when you were gone.”
The heat fled from my face, and disappointment replaced my nervousness.
“Miles!” I tried to push him away, but he solidly hugged my shoulders. “You can’t. You’ll fail!”
“Oh, please.” Miles sounded amused. “I have the top grades in my year.”
His words did little to reassure me. “Did you really do that?”
“I’ll tell you after you shower,” Miles said, releasing me and turning me to face another door. He pushed me through the entrance and turned on the lights.
Unlike the bedroom, the bathroom retained the house’s style. Stone and marble covered the space, and a claw-footed tub with a shower was nestled in the room’s far corner. Behind it, a stained-glass window reflected squares of red and orange onto the floor.
I raised my eyebrow, glancing at Miles.
Before I had to explain, Miles picked up on my question. So, this had come up in conversation before.
“Damen doesn’t care what we do to our bedrooms except for changes to the framework. But he says he doesn’t want to compromise the integrity of the ancient plumbing…” Miles paused, rubbing his forehead. “Or something stupid like that. He’s slowly trying to repurpose the interior. He’s freaky about art and antiques.”
That gave me hope. “Is he planning on doing something about the outside?”
Miles sighed. “He doesn’t care what it looks like. I think he does it to keep the property taxes down, and he’s gotten no permits for remodeling. Sometimes, he and Titus go into the woods and shoot guns to make sure that the value of the area doesn’t go up.”
What in the world?
I stared at him as he turned on the water and pulled fluffy towels from under the sink. He set the towels aside. “It’s not that weird,” he argued.
No, it definitely was very strange. The guy owned a Jaguar.
“Don’t misunderstand. Damen isn’t cheap.” Miles correctly read my expression. “He’s actually the worst with money management. He does this because he doesn’t want neighbors or unwelcome visitors. Damen is anextremelyprivate person. When you first showed up, he was panicking. If he didn’t like you, he might have killed Gregory.”
“But…” Damen hadn’t looked upset. He’d been all charm and smiles. “He was flirting with me.”
“Damen flirts to redirect people from his true intentions.” Miles leaned against the sink, studying me with darkened eyes. “You could spend lifetimes attempting to figure out the source of his passion, never to realize you were looking at the wrong place the whole time. He must be terrified right now. He’s never had such an obvious weakness.”
His words almost sounded like a warning. I swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to talk about Damen anymore.” Miles shrugged, changing the subject. “I’m wondering, were you afraid when I got angry?”
A trickle of confusion passed through me, and I cocked my head. “You get angry?”
He frowned, almost looking offended. “You saw me fighting my teammates at practice… or did you leave before that?”
“Oh…” I bit my lip, glancing away.
That was true. He body-slammed a teammate into the dirt. But how could I tell him… “I did see that.”
“Oh no,” he said, concern lacing his voice as his expression crumbled. He closed the distance between us and rubbed his hands down my arms. “I scared you? I’m so sorry.”
“No, you didn’t scare me,” I told him. Perhaps I should mention it? He seemed so upset. “Your form is wrong. And theway you tossed the other guy through the air could be improved.”
“What?” Miles dropped his hands, his eyes widening.
I nodded; the future was already taking shape in my thoughts. Someone had to tell him, and I guess the person chosen for that task would be me.
“Maria wants to go to a WWE match,” I told him. “You should come. You lack passion when you fight. It’ll be educational to watch a professional.”
“Wait.” He frowned at me. “Youwantme to fight?”
