I’ve noticed the way she looks at me whenever I wear it—especially when I wear it backwards. It’s like it means something to her that she can’t quite hide.
“Do you like the cap?”
She nods immediately. “I love it.”
I can't help the small smile that pulls at my mouth. Rose always hated it. Hated the cap, hated the slightly longer hair. You'd think I’d grown it to my ass the way she used to complain, when really it just brushed my ears. I never bothered styling it like the polished lads, either. Never saw the point.
Her gaze drifts back to the theatre, still glowing with excitement. “I can't believe you did this for our date.”
The awe in her voice hits me somewhere deep.
Willow deserves moments like this—unexpected pockets of joy that soften her, wrap around her, and settle somewhere deep inside her heart. And I intend to give her more of them. More dates, more stolen time, more moments that pull that light back into her eyes and make her smile feel easy again, like it was never lost in the first place.
“You better believe it.” I lace my fingers through hers. “Come on, before we miss it.”
She moves beside me with a barely contained bounce in her step, her dress swishing softly around her thighs as excitement pours off her. It's impossible not to feel it too.
The theatre swallows us in warmth and light. Red velvet seats, golden chandeliers forming soft glows across the packed room, and a low hum of chatter fill the air.
And then it starts.
The stage erupts—flashes of colour, dancers spinning, voices soaring; the music vibrates through the floor. Costumes glitter, lights sweep, and the entire space buzzes with life. It's impossible not to be swept up in it.
I watch… a little.
Mostly, I watch her.
She hums softly under her breath, leaning slightly toward me, and I can't take my eyes off her. The performance is good, but Willow, sitting right beside me, is completely absorbed in it, glowing like the sun. She's the true spectacle.
Chapter 28
Willow
If this is what all dates are like, then I've been seriously missing out. I mean, I’m only twenty, and honestly, I don't even know if people my age actually date. From what I've seen and heard, their idea of a date seems to be a pint down at the pub, followed by a quickie in an alley or the back of the car—even if the guyhasa car.
I get the impression that the only reason it feels special is because of Elijah. He didn't fidget once, didn't roll his eyes or complain. He sat through the entire show, fully present, and I couldn't miss the way his eyes kept finding me, tracing me like he wanted to memorise every detail.
And honestly? I'm not complaining. Not even a little. Makes a girl feel special, to be honest, and I love his attention.
Now we’re walking hand in hand, the warmth of the coffee in my grip, hot chocolate in his. The sun is dipping low, painting the sky in bruised oranges and pinks over a tiny, weathered beach. Not as pretty as the one near my old home, but the soothing crash of the waves is familiar, calming. It's nice being in our own little bubble without worrying that someone will see us.
“I have a question.”
He takes a careful sip of his drink, letting me meet his gaze over the rim, that lazy, amused glint in his blue eyes.
“Tell me… what animal do you think is actually a human in disguise?”
It's random, I know, but the thought had stuck with me after a doom-scrolling session the other day.
He blinks, eyebrows quirking up like he's trying to guess if I’m serious or just playing a game.
“You're actually serious.”
"Of course I am. It's an important question.
He twists his lips, thinking. “Sloths?”
“Sloths?” I shiver as a gust of wind sweeps over us. “That’s the first animal that came to mind?”
