Page 51 of Felix

I try to tell myself it has nothing whatsoever to do with the man upsetting my quiet and comfortable routine.

I’m not sure I buy it.

The knock at my door is expected, but I jump nonetheless. I close the top of Arthur’s terrarium before pushing to my feet.

“Here we go, Arthur.”

My hermit crab doesn’t respond.

The distance to my door seems to last forever. My feet shuffle forward, and no amount of telling myself this is just Christian and there’s nothing to worry about settles my nerves. I don’t understand why he wants to spend so much time with me. All I do is study and talk about psychology, and, sure, I have sex in front of cameras. But that’s the most exciting thing in my life. Everything else is just…

“Specs,” Christian says. “I can hear you thinking. Open the door.”

Puffing out a breath, I do. Christian appears in front of me wearing a smile and a pair of loose black pants that cinch at his ankles. His shirt is white, understated, but it complements his frame as if it were made for him. It probably was. His hair is down today, his eyes look like onyx pools, and I’m fairly sure I’ve never seen anything lovelier.

“Hi,” I manage.

His smile twists, and he holds out a hand. “Ready to go?”

Pulse thrumming, I accept his palm, closing the door behind me. “Where are we going?”

“You don’t like surprises, do you?” Christian says, leading me down the hall. He lets go of my hand to open the stairwell door, waving me forward.

“What gave me away?”

Christian snorts. “You’re a very interesting blend of predictable and unexpected, Specs.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It doesn’t sound like a bad thing.

“I think you’ll like this,” he says as we step out onto the sidewalk. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

I nod, and Christian offers his hand again. I take it.

Christian tells me a little bit about the rest of his day while we set off along the busy street, including the fact that he set up an Instagram account for his Vixen alter ego. I don’t have one for Felix, but several of the guys at the studio keep up a social media presence.

When I ask to see it, Christian pulls out his phone with ease. My feet stutter to a stop when he flips the screen my way. The picture—his only so far—is of him standing in front of a mirror in the locker room wearing nothing but a skirt. Well, not nothing. There’s also a silver chain around his middle, a drop pearl hanging in his belly button. I just about swallow my tongue, my mind so helpfully supplying the mental image of other pearly white things that could be pooling in that divot.

“Shit,” I murmur.

“Do you like it?” Christian asks, a hint of cheekiness in his tone.

“Very nice…smile.”

He laughs as I duck my head, both of us well aware I wasn’t fixated on his smile. We resume walking, and, when we reach a flora-covered gate I’ve never noticed before, Christian comes to a stop.

“We’re here,” he says.

There’s a plaque on the front of the gate that reads, “All welcome. May you find peace.”

“What is this?” I ask.

Christian opens the latch. “A meditation garden.”

My brows pop up, and he huffs a small laugh.

“I can feel your skepticism from here, Specs.”

“No, it’s just…”

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