Page 29 of Scary Suitor

“You’re not going to third-wheel me.” Finny laughs, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder to where her boyfriend is parked in the company parking lot.

“Good luck,” she says, pausing to look at the man standing too close to me. “You’ll need it.”

What I need is a good night of sleep and a shot of adrenaline to kick me out of the hazy, floating sensation. My mind is detached, letting my body autopilot throughout the days.

Finny prances to her boyfriend’s car, and they peel out of the underground structure within seconds.

I mentally block out Cassio, mosaic his body, and mute his voice. It works after I walk away, consciously noting the way my left foot hits the ground differently than my right.

Oh, no.

“Are you upset, pretty?”

I despise my body for shivering, a purr wanting to tickle my throat, but I shut down unnecessary body functions, such as my fretting brain.

“I’m sorry,” he says, long legs matching my pace. “Did you miss me? Is that why you’re sad?”

His deep voice strokes my cold skin with gentle warmth, licking a trail of fire down my spine and kissing my freezing knuckles that turn the bones weak.

It’s stupid, really.

I should be happy he’s not bothering me, but I’m clinging to his baritone like an overly sentimental fool about to lose our connection again. My stomach churns, forming foul tides in my chest, and my heart pinches wretchedly as a defense mechanism.

Yeah, I think grudgingly,I miss him.

I fight the grimace. The salamander body and ice-dragon brain are having a war in me, neither backing down, and both are too stubborn to compromise. My body acknowledges its desire to have Cassio, so that’s a lost cause.

My brain usually has my back when my heart betrays me; I’m counting on my responsible brain to keep my hopeless body at bay.

So, with careful calculation, I devise a plan on the spot. I’ll entertain him with curt answers, get on the bus to beat him home, draft up a convincing reason to cash in my off-days, and dip out of New York until Valentine's Day passes.

All I know is running away, and I’m getting a grasp on how to do it better the next time. I’ll change my surname and keep my first, then Cassio will have more trouble finding me. He’ll overthink; did I change my first, last, or both? How many name combinations is that alone in the tri-state area?

“I’ve been busy putting together a surprise for you.”

I spare him one glance, and he dares to smile as though he’s expecting my forgiveness. People move purposefully on the sidewalk, and I shuffle with them to ditch the behemoth ghost trailing after me.

I’m getting gawked at by civilians as I trudge through the wet ground and time the bus schedule.

“Surprise?” I mutter flatly.

His big hand wraps around my shoulder, pulling me to his chest before people ram into me. Some are spiteful and deliberately straighten their backs to extend a few centimeters of their shoulders, hoping to hit me, but Cassio glares pointedly and snaps their confidence.

“Yes,” he says, nodding his head. “I didn’t want to ruin it. I fear I wouldn’t be able to lie to your face until it’s ready, so I hope you can forgive this awful man for avoiding you.”

I’m sure he’s told many lies. I bite my tongue and stay silent.

The previous surprises were eccentric: a necklace with a Polaroid and food poisoning with a shameful moment in the pool—where I almost died. It’s not dramatic when my lungs were in so much pain the next day that I nearly threw up breakfast.

“Is it dangerous?” I blurt, my nails stabbing my palms. “The surprise.”

“You can be the judge of that,” he comments with a sparkle in his eyes.

A car pulls up to the sidewalk, unexpectedly fortunate to get a free spot during rush hour. A man leaves the driver’s side, bowing his head at Cassio, then proceeds to leave on foot. Cassio links our hands together, using my stunned silence to drag me through the mass of people, and puts me inside the passenger seat.

I text Finny who I’m with and what I’m doing with Cassio. This is evidence if I ever go missing, so the police will hound him as the prime suspect.

Finny messages back:Sigh dramatically and walk away. If he doesn’t get you flowers, he’s not worth it. Stay mad.

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