Page 45 of Defended By Love

Grant, the walking six-pack of a man, once again looks crushed. He sits in his thoughts as I sit in an ever-increasing pool of guilt. Not that I should feel guilty. I have nothing to feel guilty about. I just told him the truth and stopped whatever delusion he was feeding himself.

There’s no point in letting him think this is going anywhere. In letting me think this is going somewhere. He might be infatuated with the idea of some comic book love connection, but that’s not what this is. That’s not who I am. I’m not the kind of person who people fall for. One day, I’m going to be the sensible choice for someone—someone who can put up with the human cactus that I am.

Until I find that person who’s willing to settle, I just have to steel myself for the constant pain of rejection that I’ve been numbing myself to. Indulging in this fate nonsense would be counterproductive to say the least. Although, perhaps devastating would be the more apt term.

Grant’s hand reaches out for mine and he laces his fingers between mine. He holds my hand, simply, steadily, and it grounds me back to myself.

“I know this is a lot,” Grant starts.

I keep holding his hand, but I stare daggers at him. “I have zero problem with a lot. This is not a lot. This is crazy.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Grant says with a shrug.

“Don’t you mean to-may-to, to-mah-to?”

“I love how you just like to argue everything.” Grant smiles and squeezes my hand. He looks at me like he actually believes it’s adorable that I argue nearly as much as I breathe.

Like I said, this is crazy.

And it certainly can’t last.

“No, it’s really not,” I say, ignoring how Grant smiles even bigger because I guess I’m still arguing with him. “You only think you like how I argue everything because we just met and we got thrown into an adrenaline-fueled sexual frenzy. People, multiple people have told me that I’m an argumentative, pessimistic parasite that drains the life and fun out of everything.”

Grant chuckles like I’ve just made a great joke. Which, just proves at how little he knows me: I don’t make jokes.

“Good thing I’m chiller than Hoth in a cold snap then.”

“I’m not kidding,” I say, although he still looks on at me like I’m building to some sort of punchline. “Really. I once went out on a date with someone who said that going out with me was like being buried alive, except without the peace that comes from being in nature.”

Grant’s eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Please don’t tell me any personal information about that guy because there’s a good chance that I’ll kill him if I ever find out who he is.”

I know this sounds bad, but I shiver all over when he says that—and not in a ‘oh no, violence is bad’ sort of way. No, in a ‘I want him to say that as he pounds into me’ sort of way.

“Whatever happened to chill as a moth in a cold snap?” I cross my legs and squirm a little to alleviate some of the building pressure.

Immediately, Grant’s eyes soften. “Before the whole laser-thing, I wasn’t just aloof, I was the loof”—he pauses and laughs at his own joke. The dork—“but now, because of our connection, I’m a little bit intense when it comes to you. Hence the whole following you when you sneak into your office at night.”

“Define ‘a little intense’.”

Now it’s Grant’s turn to squirm. “I plead the fifth.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re Canadian.”

“I plead the fifth, eh?”

For a second, a smile threatens to make an appearance. Luckily, I stomp that nonsense down. And, by nonsense, I mean emotions. Obviously.

“I didn’t mention it earlier, but when the energy from the glowing thing went through me, it changed my body,” Grant says with a faraway look in his eyes. “I wasn’t buff before. Gun to my head, I wouldn’t even begin to know how to work out in a gym. The energy, though, it made me strong. It gave me muscles and broadened my shoulders. I think it even made me a touch taller—at least all my buddies have been teasing me about wearing lifts. And all that hurt. It felt exactly like how you would think ripping muscles and stretching bones would feel—except that it happened in under two minutes, so it was, uh, concentrated.”

There’s a faint shimmer of remembered pain behind his eyes that makes my blood boil. Thinking about him in any sort of pain makes me want to march down to Zagreus Hart and give him a piece of my mind. Or kick him in the balls. One of the two.

“And that,” Grant says, pointing a finger at me, “is kind of what I feel. The thought of you being hurt makes me a little…”

“Murderous?” I offer.

He smiles. “Is that what you’re feeling now? Murderous because I was in pain? That’s really sweet, Sunshine.”

“I’m not feeling murderous. Or anything. And I’m not sunshine.”

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