Page 148 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 3

I didn’t want to worry about what we would talk about and what we would have to avoid. I didn’t want to know that he had gone to Chicago after those weeks together and dated someone else. I didn’t want to remember how empty I had felt for a year and how I’d stumbled into hookups that were terrible ideas just to conceal the hollowness Seth’s absence had left in me.

We wouldn’t touch on this. It didn’t matter anymore. If I could bury my head in the sand and live in the bliss that Seth’s presence on campus was, I would gladly do just that.

“It’s a date,” I said, pushing my luck.

Seth looked at me, worry crossing his face for only a passing moment. Then he nodded. “If you want it to be.”

I did. And I wanted more. There was no denying it. Even if he didn’t want more. Even if he was happy to just meet after dark and blow my brains out, I couldn’t pretend that my wishes were the same.

I leaned on Seth, holding my beer and watching students walk around campus in pairs and groups, going to and from parties, carrying books, sneaking around just like us.

These were our incredible days. I was going to use them before I graduated and got pulled away from Seth again. I would enjoy these two years of college like I had dreamed of.

And I had a feeling that Seth wasn’t going to complain about it either.

Chapter Eight

SETH

The moment I turned the corner, the world seemed to slow down. Damon was already there, leaning against the wall outside the restaurant, one hand in his pocket, the other catching the soft, amber light spilling from the windows. The evening wrapped around him like it had been staged for this exact moment, gold and honeyed, striking an image that made strangers turn their heads. His hair caught a shimmer from the streetlamp, and his white shirt looked almost unreal against his tan skin. For a second, I just stood there, half-hidden behind a parked car, wondering how someone could look so careless and deliberate at the same time, like he hadn’t just shown up for dinner but stepped out of a dream I had no business dreaming.

His gaze dropped from where it was wandering through the galaxy and landed right on me, as if he could always find me in this vast universe. Those sweet lips of his curled into a smile, making me lightheaded.

Yeah, this was a terrible idea. As if it weren’t bad enough that I’d nearly knocked over a Petri dish today at the lab because I’d lost myself to daydreaming about Damon and tonight’s date, he just had to take my breath away.

“Hello, Damon,” I said curtly, keeping my voice low and clipped so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing how dizzy he had made me. My knees were weak when I came near him. It struck me as odd that this was more difficult than letting him into my room and playing Go Fish until we were naked. Maybe because stripping led us down one certain path, while going on a date branched the paths before us into infinity.

“Hello, Seth,” he said, mimicking my tone. “You’re right on time.”

“And you’re early,” I said. “Smells like desperation.”

“Dream on, boyo,” he said, thrusting his elbow for me to hold.

I shook my head. “Don’t think so. Let’s see how the date goes first.”

He laughed and put a hand on the small of my back, ushering me in and turning my legs to jelly. I swallowed a moan that came from the sheer intimacy of that touch, then entered the restaurant.

It wasn’t the one I’d proposed, but it was still a vegan place. Much more expensive, by the look of it, but styled in a casually classy way. The interior was all amber lamplight, candles in reused wine bottles, wooden tables and chairs, brick walls, and lush plants. Vines crawled up the walls and along the wooden beams, threaded with string lights for a madly romantic effect.

A greeter led us to our table in the corner in the back of the restaurant, window looking out to the inner courtyard, away from prying eyes, yet still offering a view.

Most tables were occupied by couples, bottles of wine open between them, hands held on top of the tables, pupils wide and gazes locked onto one another’s faces. Some glanced at us as we passed, holding their gazes on Damon. It was unsurprising, considering Damon had a hundred thousand followers online after the success of their hockey reality show. His profile was cluttered with a combination of game announcements and shirtless gym selfies. I knew why I visited it, and I had a strong suspicion I knew why all these people looking at him did, too.

But the attention slid off Damon like he was immune to it. A few months ago, he would have savored every moment of it, used it to start conversations, I would bet my butt on it. But he didn’t even look around, following the greeter and pulling a chair for me so smoothly that I didn’t even realize I was being pampered. I only felt it in the pit of my stomach, this melting sensation that disarmed me so thoroughly that I knew I would lose myself in his eyes the moment he sat down across from me.

And I did. His big, brown eyes looked at me with undivided interest. “So glad you agreed to go out with me,” he said, trying a typical first-date line. As if we hadn’t done all the unholy things to each other’s bodies already.

A waitress came around and greeted us, giving us menus and recommending dishes. When she asked if we knew what we wanted to drink, Damon ordered a bottle of wine by name and vintage. As the waitress walked away, a chuckle escaped me. “No way you know wines by their year,” I said.

Damon shot me a wounded look, then grinned. “No, but I read up on the selection they have.”

A few moments later, the waitress returned with the bottle of wine and an elegant crystal vase with a single red rose in it. She placed the rose on the table and unscrewed the cork, then poured a splash for Damon to try. He did, pretending like he knew something about wine, then nodded for the waitress to pour us a glass each. She left the bottle on the table when she left with our food orders.

“A rose? Nobody else has it,” I said, glancing around the restaurant. It was a custom order.

“Is it a date if there isn’t something pretty to look at?” Damon asked. He was so at ease doing this, so relaxed and confident and over-the-top romantic that it messed with me.

The heat pooled in my stomach, making it very hard to remember that we were each other’s fun without the strings attached.