“Did you buy it?”
“I told him I was allergic to vacation properties and left.”
I told him about the one who cried when I didn’t want to see his comic book collection on the first date.
“That seems harsh,” Caelan said.
“It was a comic book collection about Nazi conspiracy theories.”
“Ah. Less harsh.”
“Much less harsh.”
He told me about his home, and I watched his face as he spoke. His eyes went distant, nostalgic, describing stone walls that had stood for centuries. Towers that overlooked valleys of snow. A great hall where his family gathered for meals, voices echoing off vaulted ceilings.
“That sounds like a castle,” I said.
“It’s a family home.”
He ended up telling me about the expectations he’d grown up with, the responsibilities he was trying to figure out, the life he wasn’t sure he wanted. His voice got quieter when he talked about being the heir to whatever his family was heir to. The pressure of everyone expecting him to be a certain way, do certain things, marry a certain type of person.
“What type of person?” I asked.
“Someone suitable from a good family. Someone who understands our ways.”
“And what do you want?”
He looked at me, his gray eyes intent.
“I want someone who makes me laugh. Someone who challenges me, who doesn’t care about my family name or my responsibilities or any of it. I want someone who sees me. Not the title. Just... me.”
“That’s very romantic.”
“I’m a very romantic person.”
That was proving to be true. Then we proceeded to debate which romance tropes were superior.
“Enemies-to-lovers,” I insisted. “The tension, the banter. The eventual surrender is exquisite to read.”
“I prefer friends-to-lovers,” he countered, looking at me meaningfully. “The slow build, the trust, the realization that what you were searching for was beside you all along.”
Ha. “That’s very specific.”
“Is it?”
“You’re not subtle.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
Hours passed without me noticing. The sun moved across the sky, shadows lengthening, the air growing cooler. We lay back on the blanket, shoulder to shoulder, and watched the sky turn pink and orange and purple.
“The stars will be out soon,” Caelan said quietly. “We could stay. If you want.”
“I want.”
Night fell. The stars emerged, more than I’d ever seen, away from the city lights, scattered across the sky in infinite pinpricks of light. Caelan pointed out shapes and constellations, though the names he gave them didn’t match anything I’d heard before.
“That one,” he said, tracing a pattern with his finger. “It looks like the Two Wolves back at home.”
