Page 35 of Desired By Eros

For a moment, he was too stunned to respond. Then he cleared his throat. “Yeah, me too. I’ll find us a place.”

“Sounds good,” she said, releasing his arm as they neared the site. “What about you? What are you going to do until then?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “More hiking, I think. I’ll get the rental car and your stuff. And, you know, the very important job of finding the perfect dinner spot.”

She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Very important, indeed. Okay, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, later,” he echoed, watching her retreat toward the site offices. The smile on his face lingered long after she disappeared inside.

He turned and made his way to the park entrance, to the small bakery nestled near the visitor center. The scent of freshly baked bread and coffee greeted him as he stepped inside, and he made his way to the counter.

Placing his order with an easy smile, he noticed the way the cashier immediately brightened, her demeanor shifting as if she couldn’t help but react to him. It was the same everywhere—except with Psyche. She was so different from anyone he’d ever met. His usual charm seemed to bounce right off her, and he found himself constantly trying to figure her out.

Food in hand, he chose a table by the window, the soft murmur of conversations around him fading into the background. He pulled out his phone, relieved to see a signal. He grumbled quietly to himself, remembering Hephaestus’s tinkering. The blacksmith god had ensured that Eros’s phone couldn’t be used for anything too “creative” or, as Hephaestus would put it, “chaotic.” It was a subtle dig, a reminder of the limitations placed on him for his own supposed “good.”

Sighing, he pushed the thought aside. Complaining wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Instead, he tapped on the search bar and typed: Autism.

A list of results appeared, and he began scrolling, absorbing the information. After a few minutes, he refined his search: Tips for interacting with people who have autism.

He leaned over his phone, his coffee cooling beside him as he read through the list of tips. Each one felt like a small clue to understanding Psyche better, a roadmap for navigating her world. He swiped through more pages, taking mental notes.

His eyes scanned the paragraph on his screen, soaking in the advice. It explained that connecting with someone like Psyche required understanding and care. Showing genuine interest in her passions was a great way to build a connection, as those interests were often deeply important to her. He should avoid making assumptions about what she might be feeling—just because she didn’t express something openly didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

Clear and direct language was key, as she might take idioms or vague phrases literally, leading to confusion. It also emphasized the importance of giving her space when she needed it. Social interactions could be draining, and needing a break didn’t mean she was upset. If he was ever unsure about her feelings or needs, the best approach was simple: ask her directly. Honesty and communication would go farther than guessing ever could.

He sat back, his thumb hovering over the screen as he processed everything. No sarcasm? That would be…challenging. He thrived on teasing and innuendo, but Psyche rarely reacted the way others did. She didn’t laugh at the same jokes or fall for his usual charm, and while it had thrown him at first, it was refreshing now.

Scrolling farther, he paused at a line that struck him: “Autistic people often appreciate authenticity. Be yourself, but be mindful.”

He let the words sink in. He could do that. Maybe that’s why Psyche was different—he didn’t have to play games with her. She didn’t expect anything from him except what was real. And he found himself wanting to rise to the occasion.

It was a lot to take in, but somehow, it felt like the right place to start. Time to figure out the perfect dinner spot. Something low-key but memorable, a place where Psyche could relax and just be herself.

Eros tapped the screen of his phone, quickly narrowing down options for dinner. He remembered Psyche and her sisters indulging in seafood over the weekend, so he added that to his search criteria. A promising spot popped up nearby, one that boasted fresh, local catches and was close enough to keep the travel time short—perfect, considering Psyche’s preference for convenience. He made a reservation with a few quick taps, feeling satisfied that she’d approve.

With dinner plans settled, Eros went to get the rental car, set up her tent at the camping site, and made sure her stuff was safely stored inside it before he returned the rental. Then he spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the Triple Lakes Trail, enjoying the quiet challenge of the hike and the breathtaking views it offered. The time alone helped him clear his head, though thoughts of Psyche kept creeping in. By the time he returned to the campsite, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

When he reached Psyche’s tent, he paused at the sight of her belongings neatly piled up outside. She was crouched by the tent, dismantling it.

“Hey,” he greeted, strolling closer. “What’s going on?”

Psyche straightened, brushing her hands on her pants. “A room opened up in the barracks, but I decided against it. It seemed really loud over there, and I’m not sure I’d be comfortable. But then I found out there’s a cabin available nearby, and I’d be much happier there.”

He tilted his head, watching her closely. “You feeling good about the move?”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “This is better for me. I know it.”

“Okay. Let’s get this tent down.”

Together, they worked in comfortable silence, dismantling the tent and hauling her belongings to the cabin. It was an open-layout space with a bed tucked against one wall and a compact kitchen and living area on the other side.

Eros surveyed the space as Psyche’s face lit up. “This is great,” she said, turning to take it all in. “I can actually make food here, and it’s so much more comfortable.”

He wandered to the back and peeked through the sliding glass door that led to a small fire pit. “This is definitely a step up from a tent,” he agreed, returning to find her arranging her things.

Suddenly, she turned to him. “What are we doing for dinner?”

He grinned. “You’ll see. Ready to go?”

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