Page 17 of King of My Heart

Well, sort of. He’d slapped a mug of hot water in front of me, along with a dusty box of tea bags. Then he’d retreated to his armchair, telling me to “help myself.”

Caspian sat back, arms crossed and gaze sharp as usual.

He was intimidating in a quiet, grumpy way, his presence heavy in this small, cluttered room.

“So,” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence, “what do you do?”

I blinked at him. “For work?”

He nodded.

“I used to work the front desk at a bank.”

“Used to?”

“I quit before I went on my road trip,” I explained with a tight smile.

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t what I wanted to do. It didn’t really make me happy. It got hard waking up every morning.”

“So you quit to do, what, find motivation on that trip?”

I shrugged. “Kinda. I mostly just wanted to figure out what I really wanted to do with my life.”

“And now you’re here.”

I nodded.

“Did you figure it out? What do you want to do with your life once you return home?”

Pursing my lips, I lifted the mug to hold it, warming my palms. “Not really.”

“So that trip was a waste of money and time.”

“Definitely not. This trip was amazing. I met many cool people, saw so many new things, and captured everything with my camera, too.” I smiled, and my body eased. “It was the best trip I ever went on.”

He studied me, his thick brows furrowed. He didn’t reply right away. There was something unreadable in his gaze, something that made my skin tingle. He looked like he didn’t believe me. His gaze softened when he said, “You’ve got the rest of your life to figure out what you want.”

I nodded before taking a careful sip of my tea. The liquid burned on my tongue and down my throat, and all of a sudden, my body felt hot. I felt tense and had no idea how to deal with that feeling.

As I kept my eyes on him, I tried to figure out how to continue the conversation. Caspian didn’t look away from me, and it seemed he was trying to do the same.

He cleared his throat, then asked, “How did you meet Julian?”

I was surprised that he mentioned him. “We met at a house party.”

After that statement, he didn’t look very interested in learning more about my past with Julian.

Silence came over us again, and I tried to come up with a question that would tell me more about him. I pursed my lips, then asked, “How long have you been alone?”

He gave me a flat look. He didn’t like that I used the wordalone.

But that’s what it looked like to me.

“You think being alone is a bad thing?”

I shrugged. “Depends.”

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