Page 111 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“I like to be thorough. Which you should appreciate.”
Seconds later, I sense him settle in the chair opposite me.
Because I can’t see, my other senses are heightened. I can smell the scent of his soap, feel the hard press of his knees touching mine.
“You ready?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
“I know how much you like your rules, so I’ll explain them beforehand.”
“All right.”
“I have five items for you to taste,” he says. “A mix of savory and sweet.”
“You haven’t snuck in something disgusting, have you? Some kind of ketchup and hot sauce concoction?”
“Typically, nothing is off-limits when it comes to blind taste tests,” he says, “but you’ll like everything here.”
There’s something in the tone of his voice, like there’s a subtext there I’m not understanding.
I swallow. “Okay.”
“I’ll feed you.”
“I can feed myself,” I insist.
“My game, my rules.”
It’s such a simple statement, yet I find myself breathless.
“Do you agree?” he asks.
“No.”
I hear the smile in his voice when he reframes the question. “Do you accept?”
My answer is resigned. “Yes.”
“First item.”
When the food touches my lips, I instinctively try to take it from him so I can put it in my mouth myself.
Gideon makes a tsk-tsk sound and captures my hand in his. “Breaking the rules already, I see.”
“I can’t help it.”
“We’ll have to make a plan then for these pesky hands.”
A scarf is suddenly looped around one of my wrists.
I stiffen.
He pauses immediately. His voice is low and quiet when he asks, “Is this a problem for you?”
My heart stalls. I’m caught in a timeless moment. What do I do? A part of me wants to pull away, to yellenough, and return to my regulated, ordinary life. A life where I’m in control. Where I don’t allow myself to be at the mercy of anyone. A life that’s also, to be brutally frank, somewhat unimaginative.
Another part of me is dying to surrender and see where this will lead.
