Page 53 of Felix

“Um, we’ve already fucked,” I point out, if for no other reason than to have something to say. “Also, I don’t think you’re supposed to say ‘fuck’ in a meditation garden.”

Christian laughs, a sound that has a smile sneaking onto my face. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

When we reach the end of the spiraling path, Christian stops. “Well, Specs? What’s the verdict? Did you find your inner peace?”

I’m not sure what I found inside this garden, but I can’t deny I feel lighter than I did before.

“Inconclusive,” I tell him. “I think I’ll need to gather more evidence.”

Aaand shit, am I flirting? Was that flirting?

Christian’s eyes light in a way I’m coming to recognize as familiar. Like he’s got a secret I should know but can’t quite figure out. “Mm. I think that can be arranged. Now how do sandwiches sound?”

“Perfect,” I tell him truthfully.

With a grin, Christian heads back down the narrow path out of the garden, me at his heel. It’s not until much later, when I’m lying in bed with a book out in front of me, Christian long since having gone back to his own apartment, that a thought flashes to life inside my head, so blindingly bright I nearly pull a neck muscle from the whiplash.

Was…was that a date?

Chapter 14

Christian

“Holy shit,” Emil says, his eyes wide. He bumps up his glasses. “Um.”

It’s Friday night. Club night. Emil and I agreed to share a ride to Sublime, which is why I’m at his door. But based on my neighbor’s shell-shocked expression, it seems as if I’ve still managed to surprise him.

“You like the outfit?” I tease, striking a pose.

He blinks at me.

I’m wearing the red skirt, like I promised. The hem ends mid-thigh—not that far below my ass, to be honest. My black boots add a couple inches to my height, the stilettos adorned with pointy silver studs. And my shirt is a fine white mesh that’s soft to the touch and see-through enough for my belly chain to be visible. I added a touch of red on my eyelids to wrap it all together.

Emil blinks again.

“Good, Specs? Or should I go change?”

“No,” he says quickly, coughing once. “Um, no. It’s good. Although now I feel a little underdressed.”

“You look great,” I tell him honestly. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a simple long-sleeved shirt, but the clothes fit him well, and the light oatmeal-colored top suits his complexion.

Emil rolls his eyes a little. “Yeah, okay. Come on in. Are you thirsty?”

I tsk as I follow him through the door. “Do you always do that?”

“Do what?” he asks.

“Brush off compliments instead of accepting them?”

Emil stops still, looking at me in something akin to shock before shaking his head and continuing on into the kitchen. “Um, yeah,” he answers, opening the fridge door. “I do, actually.”

I cock my head as Emil hands me a bottled water. “Why?”

He huffs a laugh, closing the fridge and leaning against the counter. He doesn’t look at me when he says, “I guess because I’m not used to hearing them. And it’s easier to avoid getting attached to something nice than coming to expect it only to be disappointed by its absence.”

It takes me a second to say anything, my chest aching at that response. “Why would it go away?”

---