“Maybe just lick it?”
He gawks at her. “Lick it?”
“You know. With your tongue.” She mimics licking a lollipop since her own apple is still dripping over the bowl.
Thank goodness Mother isn’t here to witness this conversation.
“That seems very undignified.”
She can’t really argue with that.
“Well, we had a deal,” she says. “You may eat a plain apple if you’d prefer. I don’t mean to pressure you if you really don’t want to try it.”
The dripping from her apple has slowed, and she leans over the bowl to take a bite.
“Why do you get the bowl?” he asks.
“Mine has more caramel?”
“I should have made two bowls.”
That wouldn’t have been a bad idea.
“Here. You use the bowl. I’ll just try to be careful.” She steps away from the table, holding her hand beneath her apple to catch any stray drips.
When she looks up, the tiniest bite imaginable has been taken from Cerian’s apple. She resists the urge to laugh or cheer him on. He probably wouldn’t appreciate either response from her.
“I’m already sticky,” he says once he swallows.
“But was it worth it?”
“The caramel is like glue, and the apple is crunchy. I don’t know about this combination—”
“You don’t have to eat it, Cerian. I won’t be hurt.”
“I was going to say I don’t know about this combination, but the taste is pleasing.”
Well. That’s something, at least.
He keeps nibbling at the apple, eyeing it with a similar expression to what he wore while drinking the fizzy lemonade what feels like a lifetime ago. As if he’s not sure whether he loves it or hates it.
Meanwhile, she’s dripping caramel everywhere. Maybe she should have taken off her dress.
Cerian glances her way and frowns.
“Yes, I know. I’m a disaster.” She rubs her forehead with the back of her hand. Hopefully, she didn’t ruin her gown with the two big drips of caramel she missed until it was too late. There’s not much she can do about it now.
“Are you all right?” Cerian’s soft voice nearly undoes her.
“No? I think I ruined my dress.”
“It’s shimmeron, Arisanna. Here, watch.” He takes her half-eaten apple and sets it beside his in the bowl, making only the slightest face at the caramel running down her stick. Then he blows on one of the caramel drips on her bodice as she tries not to turn red again.
To her shock, the stain dries and hardens, lifting away from the fabric.
“May I?” he asks quietly, and she nods.
He carefully peels the dried caramel away, setting it on the table before doing the same with the drip on her skirt. When he’s done, she looks up at his beautiful green eyes. “Thank you.”
