Kent appears at my side with a worried frown. “Is everything okay here?”
Felix sucks in a deep breath through his nose. “Yes. Sorry. I get carried away sometimes when I’m talking about, uh, my hobbies.”
I cough to cover the inappropriate laugh that wants to escape. That probably wouldn’t do anything to soothe his ire.
“It’s no problem,” Kent assures us. “Just try to keep it low enough that nobody else notices.”
We both nod.
“Your food is nearly ready, so that should help to distract you.”
Felix opens his mouth, and for a split second, I’m convinced he’s going to tell Kent to cancel our meal. But instead he says, “That’s great. Is there any chance I could have another drink, please? Whatever shifter-made whisky you’ve got. A double.”
I flinch. I guess that makes it pretty clear what he thinks of my offer.
“Coming right up,” Kent promises, and then we’re alone again.
Gathering my courage—more than I’ve needed in a long time—I say, “It?—”
“I don’t understand you.” Felix talks over me, his glare fixed firmly on my face. “First you hate me for things you think I’ve done, and then you hate me for who you think I am, and then we call a truce but you still act like being around me is painful.”
“Felix—”
“No, it’s my turn to talk.Thenwe finally start to connect, and I think maybe we could be friends. Five minutes later, you’re acting like we’ve been friends for years, and you’re actually abetterfriend than a lot of the ones I’ve had for years.”
I don’t know if he’s glad about that or not, but it gives my competitive spirit a little boost. Fuck yeah, I’m a better friend than whoever else he’s thinking of.
“And then,” he continues, the ire in his voice telling me that even if he is glad about how good a friend I was being, he’s not going to let it be a point in my favor, “just when I’m wondering if maybe you could be interested in me, if we could one day be more than friends, you have to go and offer todo me a favorby fucking me on the regular,and then you say no hard feelings if I don’t want to.”
I keep my mouth shut. That was a pretty good summary of the situation, but Felix looks like he could happily murder me right now, and the part of me that grew up incredibly conscious of other people’s opinions hates the idea of making a scene in public. I’m going to let him set the pace here.
And hope it takes us somewhere I want to be. Did it… did it maybe seem like he wanted me to be into him? Like he was hoping I am?
I keep my face impassive, even though it wants to wince. I may have just told the man I’m halfway to falling in love with that I’d have sex with him as a favor, but no big deal if he doesn’t want to. Pretty sure that’s the stupidest thing anyone’s ever done, and I’m including my dragon colleagues in that statement. Not surprising that he’s unhappy about it.
He’s muttering to himself now, jaw working, and I’m so proud of him. Just a few days ago, being this angry would likely have resulted in something—or someone, namely me—being broken. But even though he’s barely had time to start his new training program, he’s already managing to restrain himself. Would it make things worse if I offered to spar with him?
Does he even know how to spar? He’s young, and he’s a hockey player, not a soldier. To the best of my knowledge, he’s never been trained to fight. I wouldn’t want to piss him off by handing his ass to him in three seconds flat.
Kent returns bearing a glass of whisky before Felix manages to pull himself together enough to continue the conversation,and he’s followed by another server with our meals. I smile politely and thank them both effusively, and then they’re gone.
Felix picks up the glass, brings it close to his face, and smells it. An agonized expression contorts his face, but then he sets it back on the table and shoves it toward me. “I can’t drink this. Alcohol is banned from my diet plan.”
I set it wordlessly out of his reach, in front of my glass, where it will hopefully be less visible to him also, and don’t ask why he ordered it.
“I wanted Dutch courage, but it’s not going to help me in this situation,” he continues bitterly, picking up his fork and stabbing a veal medallion. I watch, taking in the way his mouth is turned down in genuine unhappiness. It’s time for me to fix this.
“It wouldn’t be me doing you a favor.” The words are ragged, raw. It doesn’t entirely sound like my voice, but I’m the one saying them. “I mean, it would, but that’s not why I offered. And… and I wouldn’t havehardfeelings if you said no, but it would, uh, sting. Hurt. I would hurt.” I stop before I say something else, something I’m not ready for, and wait to see how he responds.
Once again, he’s staring at me. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I don’t understand you, Ari. Sometimes I think I know who you are, and then… Do you wear a mask all the time? Who’s the real Ari?”
My chest gets tight with panic, but I force myself to breathe through it, just like I always do. I don’t doubt that Felix is special to me, but I’m not ready to have this conversation, and even if I was, this isn’t the place. “I’m just saying, my offer was genuine, and it matters to me. You matter to me.”
He puts his fork down and pinches the bridge of his nose. His jaw is clenched, but this time I don’t think it’s in anger. “So, what, we’d be friends who fuck?”
I choose my next words carefully. “To begin with. When you feel like you’re in a good place for more, we could reassess.” That came out wrong, and I want to call the words back, but thankfully, they don’t seem to have made him mad. Or madder.
Instead, he looks down at his plate, blinking a few times. “You’re not offering because you feel sorry for me?”
