Page 57 of The Girl and the Cobra

“It just sounds so casual,” Tristan says, studying my face hard. “So juvenile. Like we’re in middle school.”

“Then what would you call us?”

“Soulmates.” Tristan says it instantly, and the way he says it makes it really sink in: he means it. His face is only a few inches away from mine, and his nearness and the way he says the word combine to make me into nothing more than a pile of goo.

If anyone else said it, it would sound stupid or even sarcastic, but out of Tristan’s mouth? The word hits differently. It sounds so… so right. So right I can’t refute it.

“Well,” I say, “I don’t think we should call each other that in front of my dad, so let’s just agree to the boyfriend label, okay?” As I say it, Tristan practically pulls me off my chair and moves me to his lap, where his arms circle me and hold onto me tightly.

He buries his nose in my hair and breathes me in. “If that’s what you want. I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

Tristan, so eager to please. Eager to be wanted. I think I understand him now, and I know what he needs to hear. I set a hand on his cheek and pull his face away so I can stare deep into his dark eyes when I say, “I don’t want you to be anything other than you.”

And I mean it. I mean it one hundred and ten percent.

A hum radiates from his chest, and his lips tug into a smile. It’s then that I realize he very rarely smiles at all. In fact, this might be the first. The smile, as soft and as gentle it is, makes my stomach warm as a giddiness takes over.

I make a vow to myself to make him smile more.

Chapter Twenty-Five – Tristan

Mabel’s father comes to pick us up promptly at six. Mabel’s wearing an adorably oversized hoodie that swallows her up and a pair of dark blue jeans that hug her legs in a way that’ll make it hard for me to concentrate on anything besides what I know lay underneath. Her yellow hair is freshly-washed and wavy, her gray eyes bright as she leads me from the house to her father’s car.

I step outside, into the early dusk, but I hear my name inside the house, so, half-in, half-out, I stop and I turn to view Wolf approaching me. The man is letting me go out in public without my collar and without his supervision; probably another one of his tests. See if I run or something.

But he suspects I won’t, because if I run, I’d leave Mabel behind—and there’s no way in hell I’d ever do that.

Wolf says nothing until he’s peering outside, at the car, where Mabel and her father are waiting for me. He gives a fake smile and waves for the benefit of her father, and then he turns his full attention on me. “Play nice. If you do, this could be the start of a new beginning for you.” He says not a single word more before he turns around and leaves me standing there.

I expected him to say more. The man likes to hear himself talk.

A new beginning. If anything, Mabel was my new beginning, and it began the first moment I saw her, not now. By comparison, going to dinner with her and her father is trivial. I already feel like a different person; I don’t know how much more I can possibly change.

I push Wolf out of my mind as I head to the car. Mabel got in the front seat with her father; when I scoot into the back I catch the tail end of their conversation. Her father, Mike, was sayingsomething about Mabel looking good, to which I would heartily agree—however, I am of the mind that Mabel looks good all the time.

When I climb into the back, Mike trails off and turns around from the driver’s seat to look at me. He was lighthearted and happy to talk to Mabel, but those emotions fade when he lays his eyes on me. “Tristan. Good to see you.”

Funny. He’s never said it’s good to see me in all the times he’s come to the house to spend some time with Mabel, but I let it go. I let it go and I tell him, “Same.” Believe it or not, I don’t have much experience dealing with the parents of girlfriends. The reason why is obvious.

“Now, I hope you two are hungry. I, for one, am starving.”

We end up at a big chain restaurant a town over; it’s a bit of a drive for us, but Mike fills the silence with questions about Mabel’s new job. Of course, Mabel hasn’t even started yet, so she doesn’t really know the ins and outs, or even when she’ll be working, but it’s clear Mike is excited for his daughter.

I’ll be honest: it’s a strange thing to witness, a father caring for his daughter. My parents, both my mother and my father, never showed much emotion at all. It was seen as a weakness. To be a true weapon, you had to learn to shut them off… or maybe my parents never had real emotions to begin with. Perhaps it was to their detriment, since I killed them.

That’s not something that can ever be a topic of conversation when Mike’s around. Unlike Mabel, I don’t think he’d take kindly to knowing the truth about me and what I’ve done. Not everyone is as understanding and forgiving as Mabel.

I don’t deserve her.

But just because I don’t deserve her doesn’t mean I’ll ever let her go.

We get a booth in the corner of the restaurant, and I sit beside Mabel. She scoots into the booth first, leaving me to siton the outside. Mike sits across from us, and I can tell he’s doing his best not to stare at me the entire time. He’s trying to watch me without being obvious about it—he wasn’t trained to be nonchalantly perceptive, so his studying is plain.

He’s watching how close I sit to Mabel, how my body is angled in slightly toward hers. He sees how Mabel leans toward me as she looks through the menu, trying to decide what she wants. It’s clear we are comfortable with each other, that we like being near each other, and if I have to guess, I’d say Mike isn’t too thrilled.

The waitress comes over and takes our orders, and once our drinks are in front of us, Mike dives right in. “So, Tristan. Tell me about yourself.”

“Dad,” Mabel whispers.

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