She bit her lip, squinting as she breathed out. Adorably conflicted. Fighting an internal battle I knew all too well.
Finally, she let out a long sigh. “Well . . . I suppose we had better try. I don’t need another tree almost falling on me.”
I silently breathed a sigh of relief, which was ludicrous. But her acceptance calmed my Cupid.
“Great,” I said lamely, not knowing where else to go with this.
“Yeah, great.” She took off running into the forest.
I followed, keeping pace with her.
For a long stretch, we said nothing. Just the rhythmic thud of our shoes on dew-damp ground and our controlled breathing.
Eventually, the silence got to me.
I blurted out the gem of the century: “I think friends talk.” I sounded like a guy who’d never had a real conversation in his life.
“That’s an astute observation,” she said, grinning. Not helping me feel better about myself.
“I’m trying here. This is awkward, to say the least.”
“You’re right. Fine. But I haven’t been good at the friend thing in a long time.”
“Since you locked your heart?” I asked gently, trying to confirm what I’d suspected—that locking her heart had consequences beyond romance.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“But you and Cassie seem like good friends,” I offered, treading carefully.
“That’s because Cassie is a force of nature. She pushed herself on me—thankfully.”
“So I need to push myself on you?”
Her brow quirked. “Once again, that escalated quickly.”
Oh, hell.“That came out wrong.”
“I would say so,” she giggled. “Maybe we should try some innocuous topics first.”
“Good idea,” I muttered, feeling more and more like an inept idiot. I used to think of myself as suave.
“So . . . what’s your favorite show?” she asked, clearly holding back a laugh.
Admittedly, this was ridiculous. But I felt like it was too late to back down now.
“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it. It’s on the Roman god streaming channels. It’s calledGame of Altars.”
“I actually have heard of it. I have a friend who’s Roman and we watched it a couple of times. It’s a pretty brutal show.”
“I thought you said you weren’t good at the friend thing.”
“Well, like Cassie, this is another case of someone seeing past this version of me. Or maybe they just know there’s more to me but they like me where I’m at.”
Those words made me feel like a prick. Like I should have looked past my expectations and seen a girl in mourning. It made me wonder whether my life would have turned out any differently. Maybe then the Cupid inside me would have known her heart like he so desperately wanted to at this moment. In fact, he was berating me for being such a jerk. You know, maybe he should have chimed in thirteen years before when I met Demi. That was, assuming she hadn’t already locked her heart by then. But I couldn’t imagine her doing it at such a young age. And surely she hadn’t fallen in love by then either.
“Who is this Roman friend? Maybe I know her.” I glossed over admitting that I should have been a better person and seen past the baggy clothes and big glasses.
“Oh, it’s not a she; it’s a he.”
