“Um, well, besides writing, I also enjoy reading. I don’t really have any other hobbies.” Now that I say it out loud, it leaves a sad, sour taste in my mouth. I don’t know what I like. I was always working, so I’ve never really given it much thought. Maybe dancing, but I danced out of necessity, not for my enjoyment, but I did love the way it made me feel being up on stage. It was the only time I thought I had any real power.
The server returns with our drinks, breaking me from my memory haze, and takes our orders. I slide my juice in front of me once they leave and grab the pepper. “What are you doing?” Dante asks, his eyebrows drawn together.
“I add pepper to it—gives it a bite. It’s good. It’s like a Bloody Mary but without all the fixings.” I tilt my head, giving him a playful smile. “Are you scared of juice, Dante?” I shake pepper into my drink, take my spoon from my napkin, and stir. I lick the spoon from the handle to the tip when I’m done mixing, and I make direct eye contact with Dante. “Mmm, just the way I like it,” I slide my cup to him, “Wanna try it?”
Dante shakes his head, chuckling. “I want to try something, alright,” his tongue dances behind his teeth, and I know I’ve got him flustered.
My phone rings on the table, startling me. I grab it, tearing my gaze away from Dante, because he’s so much better at this teasing eye-fucking game we’re playing. I see Olivia’s name on the screen. “Hello?”
“CONGRATULATIONS, BOSTON’S BEST SELLING AUTHOR!” Olivia screams, and I pull my phone away from myear and excuse myself from the table.
I briskly walk outside the loud restaurant. “What? Are you sure, Liv? Did they post the article?
“Check your email, babe! I just got sent the article from AmyReadsALot on VidTok.” Olvia says.
I put my phone on speaker and rushed to check my email—and sure enough, there it was: an email congratulating me on winning, saying they would mail my own certificate next week. “Holy shit. I’m a best-selling author.”
“I’m going to call Jordyn and see if we can have a party at Pyre for you. You deserve to be celebrated! You know what, we should throw a bookish ball instead! I’ve seen them all over Vidtok in different cities. I’ll handle everything, Luna!”
“Wait, Olivia, I don’t know about this. I couldn’t handle the club the other night, and now you want to throw a ball in my honor? It seems a bit much.” I love Olivia’s enthusiasm, but with everything going on, I don’t know if I can add that to my already overflowing plate. I still have a stalker I haven’t told her about yet, because I'm not sure I even want to mention it. Olivia will go into protective mode and ask me to move in with her, but that would only put her in danger, too. Dante found that tracker on my car, and I won’t risk putting my best friend in danger unnecessarily.
“Halloween is coming up, we could disguise it as a Halloween bookish ball, we can work out themes later, but you’d be the surprise guest! Oh, I can see VidTok now! Masked Men and Bookish Baddies everywhere," Olivia squeals into the phone. “Please, please, please, Luna! I’ll invite other indie authors to the event so the pressure isn’t all on you, and I promise to keep it a secret if you end up not wanting to come.”
I like the idea of the ball; I’ve seen videos on VidTok of other people attending, and they always look like they're having a good time. I also appreciate that she wants to invite other authors, as it gives me a chance to mingle with friends I’ve yet to meet from Vidtok and a chance to feelhuman again—keeping me a secret from the event also means my stalker won’t know I’m there either. “Okay, fine. I agree to the ball as long as I’m kept a secret.”
Olivia squeals into the phone again. “Yay! I’m so happy! I have so much to do, okay, I’m gonna call some other people now, byeeeeeeeeeeee!” *click*
“Well, alright, bye to you, too,” I tell no one because Olivia just hung up on me. I chuckle, shoving my phone in my pocket and turning around to head back into the restaurant.
Dante has eyes on me as soon as I walk back in the door, and there’s an edge of possessiveness in his gaze. I like it when he looks at me like that. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel powerful, like I’m the Etsy witch in question, and I’ve got Dante under my spell. If past me could see me right now, she would be screaming at me to run, that I’m being a lovesick fool, but I can’t deny how he makes me feel. I ignored the red flags Greg would launch at my face because he made me dependent on him, and I know that now.
I’m not reliant on Dante, and I won’t ever be because I don’t need to.
No man will ever have control over me like that again.
I slide into my seat and smile, breaking our unspoken staring contest first. “Sorry about that. Olivia called to break the news.”
Dante’s brows shoot up. “Did you win?” his smile meets his ears, and the possessiveness in his eyes is replaced with admiration.
My heart skips a beat at the look, and I chide myself to slow my ever-beating heart down. I nod. “They sent me an email congratulating me, and I’ll be getting a certificate in the mail.”
“That’s awesome! I’m so happy for you; that’s such a huge accomplishment. Let me take you out to celebrate.”
A blush rises to my cheeks at his praise. “Aren’t we already out?” I tease.
“True, but what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take you out to celebrate?”
My eyes widen, and the smile on his face tells me he likes seeing my shock. “Dante, that was in the heat of the moment. You don’t have to play along anymore.”
Dante licks his lips and leans forward, “I meant every word I said, Luna. Do you not want me to be your boyfriend?”
So much for slowing down, "Uh–” Our server arrives with our food, interrupts us, and sets it in front of us. “Thank you,” I say with a smile, and they nod, quickly leaving to tend to other tables. Dante is still looking at me, waiting for an answer. “Well, I–it’s not that I don’t want to date you, I do, I–I’m just hesitant.”
“Would you tell me why? If I can ease any of your discomforts or insecurities, I will gladly do so.” Dante picks up his fork and begins to eat, as if what he just said wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard a man say after being slightly rejected.
I pick my jaw up off the floor and swallow hard. Here comes the bad part. The part where I tell him I was abused, and I never hear from him again, because what guy wants to deal with that, right? Might as well get it over with. “When I told you my last relationship was not a good one, not good was an understatement. It started like any normal relationship; he pretended to be the chivalrous boyfriend, but quickly turned into a raging lunatic once I moved in with him. He was an angry man. Angry at everything, but mostly me…and then he started hitting me.” I pick up my spoon and stir my berries and oats into my yogurt, needing a moment before I continue. “Anyways, I left him and moved here to start over. I haven’t been with anyone since, and I’m unsure if I even want to be in a relationship.” I’m afraid to lose my freedom, again, but I don’t say that out loud—another trauma for another day.
Dante has a white-knuckle grip on his fork, and I can tell what I’ve just told him has bothered him. “What’s his name?” he asks, his voice low and threatening.
