“I wouldn't expect anything less,” I chuckle.
When we're done with dessert, Delilah and I head to the arcade room, battling it out in a martial arts fighting game that has us both yelling at the screen while we hit buttons and knockour joysticks around. After five rounds, Delilah beats me fair and square with four points, and I'm about to fling my arms around her in celebration when I hold myself back and stick my hand out instead.
“Well done, m'lady,” I smirk as Delilah stares at my hand, her laughter dying down. Her brows knit to a frown, and she tentatively places her hand in mine.
“Th-thanks,” she murmurs, and a flicker of disappointment is evident in her eyes as she shakes my hand. She clears her throat, becoming uncomfortable, and I decide to ease her tension by suggesting another game.
She nods slowly. “Bowling. That'll be fun.”
Her dry expression tells me that she isn't having much fun, but I can read between the lines, noting her emotions as if they're my own.
Disappointment.
It's almost as if she wanted me to wrap my arms around her to celebrate. But I'm holding myself back, especially since she's the one who suggested friendship when I was on the brink of losing her altogether. I have to take things slowly, but I get the feeling that it's not what Delilah wants.
The shift in her mood doesn't dampen my spirits, however, and I become more determined to win her over. I type our names into the keypad, and we prepare for our bowling session, and soon, we’re both enjoying ourselves.
“Nice one!” Delilah claps her hands in delight when I score a strike on my first try. Her mood shifts again when she wears a mischievous smile and picks up a bowling ball.
She scores a strike on her first try, too, and punches the air triumphantly before sticking out her tongue at me.
“Bet you thought you're the only one who could do that!” she teases as she rolls her eyes.
I pick up my ball and pass her, catching the scent of roses in my airways.
The flower is in bloom again, and not just trying to prick me, and it brings me ease as we carry out the rest of the game.
Delilah seems to be enjoying herself, until we reach the final round and she wins again—deliberately, because I missed the last round on purpose to give her the upper hand.
Winning doesn't seem to lift her spirits, and as we head back to the Jeep when the night is over, I don't need to read her thoughts to know what's going through her mind.
I've always been able to read Delilah like a book, even if I've barely picked up a book in my life. The only physical book I've ever read is the one from the local library—The Secret Society.
From it, I've learned about the mood swings of a witch, knowing that, depending on the moon cycle, the shift in mood is normal for someone like Delilah.
Add the hot blood of her wolf to the mix, and her mood swings can be intense.
It must be the reason why she seems upset now, folding her arms as we drive back to Scarborough.
“Did you have a fun night?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation light while breaking the ice of the awkward silence stretching around us.
“Fun…” Delilah scoffs as she turns her face toward the window, staring out at the pine trees on her side of the road. “Yeah, it was fun, I guess,” she shrugs.
Nodding thoughtfully, I keep my eyes on the road, thinking up a way to lift her spirits again while keeping things friendly between us. I don't want to come on too strong and make her feel like I'm being too forward, but there's no denying that Delilah wants more than just a friendly, casual date.
As much as I want more.
“Would you like to do that again? Go out on another date?” I ask as we enter the small town of Scarborough, driving down the road parallel to the beachside promenade. I roll down my window, allowing the sounds of the crashing waves to fill the tense air between us.
Delilah only shrugs, then sighs as she tilts her head toward the window. “Nah, I don't think we should do that again.”
I purse my lips as we turn onto the main street, then head toward the residential area. Once we've pulled up in the driveway, I cut the engine and turn toward Delilah.
She doesn't have to spell it out for me—I already know that the “friend” thing isn't going as planned.
Perhaps Delilah is trying to play off our relationship as nothing more than being friends, afraid of anything more, but it's clearly eating her up inside.
My heart is aching too, and my fingers tingle with the urge to reach out for her. All it would take is having her back in my arms one more time to make things feel right again, but I don't want to pressure her. I'd only just opened up to her and asked her to give me a chance to prove myself. I can't do anything more unless she says the word, and her current mood won't allow her to ask for that.
