My face heats a little as I try to shut down that possibility—mostly for my benefit.
“It’s not romance. This is just what he does. He notices things, and he likes to give me gifts.”
“I bet he does.” Her eyes twinkle with amusement. “Are we going to talk about that night at the carnival or pretend it didn’t happen?”
I consider it for a moment before I decide. “You get one question.”
“How was it?”
“Amazing,” I answer with a dreamy sigh, which really isn’t helping my case that this isn’t a romantic thing.
“Well, I’m glad you had fun.” She leans over and glances inside the box. “It looks like there’s still something in there.”
I pull out the matte black envelope, curious what it might be. But when I open it, I’m not prepared for what I find.
It’s a stack of meticulously rendered drawings—so detailed, they look like they captured the exact moments these events took place.
The first one illustrates Eros wearing the Ghostface mask, cradling me in his lap as I sleep against his chest. Then there’s one of me at the carnival in my costume, squeezing the giant shark he won me, with an expression of pure happiness. There’s also a depiction of him chasing me through the hall of mirrors, and finally, one of us sharing cotton candy on a Ferris wheel—sans the cages.
“Wow.” Chantel leans in to study them. “These are incredible. Look at how lifelike your expressions are. And all these other details, like the freckles on your nose…” She pauses to look up at me, and I think she’s counting them.
Her eyes widen, and she goes unnaturally still.
“Why do you have that look on your face? You’re freaking me out.”
“Gabi, this man is in love with you.”
“No, he’s not.” I swallow. “We’re keeping things casual.”
God, that word sounds so stupid, and I don’t know why I keep repeating it. I think the only person I’m trying to convince is myself.
“This level of detail is not from a man who thinks about you casually in any sort of way.”
I sit with that for a minute, wondering if that could be true, but then I think of all the times he’s tried to warn me away.
There’s way too much to unpack there, so I shove that thought deep inside a locked vault inside my head, telling myself I’ll come back to it later.
“Will you at least tell me something about him?” Chantel pleads. “I’m dying to know.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” I return the gifts to the box and set it aside. “I don’t really know much about him.”
“Like…at all?” She blinks.
“Nope. He wears a mask, and I told him to keep doing that.”
“I mean, I get it…the mask thing is hot, but how long has this been going on?”
“A while,” I admit. “It just feels less messy this way. I didn’t want any feelings involved.”
“You said didn’t want, as in past tense.” She points out. “Does that mean you do now?”
“I don’t know.” I flop back onto the bed and shove a pillow over my face. “I can’t figure out what I want.”
“Join the club.” Chantel sighs.
I peek out from beneath the pillow. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs it off. “But we need to get ready. I’m taking you out for breakfast.”
