Page 21 of Exile

“Does it matter?”

I shrugged, walking closely next to him. “I like to think that it does.”

“Hm.”

“My birthday is April twenty-second. Taurus.”

“Great,” he said sarcastically.

Got it. No more birthday and astrology talk.

I stopped at the bottom of the porch steps when we reached my house, turning to face him.

“Thanks for walking me,” I said softly.

He nodded, his gaze meeting mine briefly before flicking away.

On impulse, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. His body tensed like he wasn’t used to being hugged, but he didn’t pull away.

He forced his hand to the small of my back, patting against it before he cleared his throat and stepped back.

His expression was unreadable in the dim light of the porch, but he gave a small nod. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Caspian.” I smiled and watched him turn away and walk back down the road, disappearing into the shadows.

Only when he was gone did I notice my heart pounding hard in my chest. I could still feel his presence, which confused me, feeling like this when he wasn’t even here anymore.

There was something about him, something I couldn’t quite put into words.

Something more between us, and as I stood there alone in the night, I knew I wouldn’t be able to shake the feeling anytime soon.

***

The next morning, I went to the general store to get ingredients and baked Caspian a cake in the small kitchenette. Finding everything in the drawers took me a while, but I collected everything I needed.

I doubted Caspian cared much for sweets, but after learning he hadn’t celebrated his birthday, I felt like someone had to do something about it.

When the cake was cooling, I added a finishing touch with a thin layer of frosting and a “61” written in blue icing. It wasn’t perfect, but it was heartfelt. I simply wanted to put a smile on his face. Though that was a lot to hope for.

Once it was placed on a plate, I took a quick shower and dressed. My hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and I decided not to wear makeup today. I grabbed one last thing—the diary filled with Polaroid pictures from my road trip—before picking up the cake and heading to Caspian’s house.

I struggled to balance the cake in one hand and the book in the other, but after tugging the book under my arm, I managed to knock on the door.

It took a while before he opened the door, and his usual scowl deepened at the sight of me holding the cake.

“What’s this?” he asked flatly.

I held it up with a sheepish grin. “Belated birthday cake.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t eat cake.”

“Figured,” I muttered. “I’ll eat it for you then. Can I come in?”

His brow twitched in annoyance, but he stepped aside and let me in. The house smelled of coffee again. I could use one, I thought.

Once inside, I placed the cake on the dining table and handed the book from under my arm to him. “Here.”

“What’s that?” he asked, eyeing it closely.

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