He takes a long breath as he fiddles with the napkin roll-up beside his menu. The sigh that comes out of him next is filled with defeat.
“With the help of a warlock, they bound me and poured acid on my face.”
I suck a sharp breath through my clenched teeth.
“For weeks…so that as I healed, the fresh flesh was damaged, too.”
I wince, blinking tears from my eyes.
“Bastian, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, touching his hand.
He doesn’t flinch this time, easing against my side at the contact. Our thighs press together and a hateful memory spikes through me. I scoot a little farther away, but his hand comes down on my leg.
“No,” he whispers. “Stay.”
His fingers dig into me with more desperation than his words. As if my nearness is a comfort he can’t do without in this moment. I sigh, letting my muscles release. His hand relaxes too, resting on my mid-thigh.
“Hithere, something to drink?” a cheery woman asks and I jump like I was caught in the act.
I mean, I was caught in the act of cozying up to the dragon from my bookshop, but she doesn’t know that. We must look like we’re dating. Sitting on the same side, his hand on my leg.
She’s in a cute radish apron, her blond hair bundled up behind her with an alligator clip.
“Chai?” I ask hopefully.
“Whole milk or almond?” she responds without missing a beat.
Oh god, yes.
“Almond.”
“And you?” she asks, looking at Bastian.
Her smile wavers as they lock gazes. She stares at him, her face hauntingly still, as if she’d been turned to stone. She stays that way for too long, and I have to break the silence.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her face turns to me, then her eyes, and a plastic smile warps her cheeks. She blinks a few times and her posture changes as she curls in on herself, hiding.
“Fine. Brain fog is all. What was it you wanted to drink?”
“Chai, almond,” he says.
She glances back at me with a repentant wince. “Anything else?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“I’ll be back to get your order,” she says as she turns away.
I glance at Bastian to gauge his response. His milky gaze follows the waitress to the drink bar.
“Chai, huh?” I ask.
He nods.
I’m not delulu enough to think that his favorite beverage is also my favorite beverage, but the fact that he ordered the same thing as me makes my heart a little fluttery. It’s all underpinned with something awkward, though. He’s uncomfortable.
“What is it?” I ask, touching his hand on my leg.
