Page 50 of Duke's Daring Bookworm
“What else would I be if I did nothing but sit around reading books all day and not paying my fair share of bills?” She sounded defensive but had too clear of a picture of what her life would be like without work to fool me. She’s thought about it, and didn’t hate the idea.
“You would be happy, for a start. Then, when you become bored with just reading, if that’s even possible, you would find something that you loved.” I reached over and squeezed her knee, needing contact with her since we were back on difficult topics.
“And someone else would pay my bills and make sure I ate, and I would contribute nothing.”
I growled. She wasn’t getting it.
“Listen, I don’t fucking care what anyone else thinks, you included,” I said before she could interrupt. “You fucking matter. You matter to me. Whether you work at a museum or become a goblin in my library doing nothing but reading whatever book you want. Do you think the rich fucks I went to school with sit around thinking about howuseful they are? No, they don’t. That’s a lie told to poor people to make them work. There is no ‘useful’ or ‘useless,’ there is only existing and finding joy.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re on the rich end of that.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. She was right. I had life easier in so many ways. We may have grown up together, but she lived in a different world.
I didn’t want to think about it now, though.
“What’s so bad about your work?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back into safer territory.
“My boss, Tom. He’s… difficult. It’s like I never do anything right there, and sometimes he says things and when I try to report him, I’m the one that gets in trouble. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but it has to be something, right?”
“No, it doesn’t have to be anything you’re doing wrong.” We pulled into my apartment’s underground parking garage but still sat in the car while she told me about her job.
“Today, he told me I wasn’t doing enough. He said my work was adequate, but not up to expectations. The thing is, I think he’s right. I used to do so much more when I was first hired, but I’m… exhausted.”
She looked it. Her shoulders slumped, her body seeming to crumble in on itself. She looked better than when I first picked her up. She wasn’t pale anymore, and the redness had faded from her eyes, but what happened today clearly still weighed on her. My hands itched to take it away. I just didn’t know how.
“He’s wrong. No one works at a high level all the time.” I brushed a stray curl from her hair, and she nuzzled into my hand.
“You do.”
I snorted.
“No, I’m definitely going to burn out soon.” She turned her head and kissed my palm.
“You do work a lot. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” She kissed my hand again. The gesture was so simple, but it eased the tension between us and reminded me I had a surprise waiting for her.
“Let’s go upstairs.” She kissed my hand one last time before letting it go. I had no right to feel so bereft without it.
Chapter Eighteen
Sure enough, Duke had food at his house. Specifically, cherry pie. Maybe I just had a thing for cherries because this was my absolute favorite.
“You don’t like pie,” I accused him as I grabbed a fork and dug into it. The cherries burst on my tongue, a bright contrast to the buttery, flaky crust. “Mm.”
“I had grandpa’s chef make it. I planned on bringing it and dinner over to you tonight.” He leaned against the counter and watched me savor my bite.
“Why?” I took another small bite. The hunger from earlier had ebbed so I could take this slow and revel in the flavor and feel of the pie.
“Can’t a guy just seduce his best friend with some pie?” He followed the path of the fork to my mouth, eyes riveted on me as I licked my fork clean of it.
“Not usually.” I shrugged and set the fork down. “I need some milk.”
His fridge was immaculately stocked with a wide variety of food, including some fancy bottles of milk from a local farm that probably cost an arm and a leg. A little of that panic from earlier came back, so I grabbed the milk and slammed the door closed before it could take over.
I didn’t bother with a glass—Duke didn’t care—and took a swig straight from the bottle. He looked at me in a way that made me tingle before walking over, grabbing my hips, and licking a line of milk from my upper lip.
“Checking in,” he said, instead of kissing me like I needed. “How are you? Feeling better? Is this too much?”
It didn’t take me long to realize what ‘this’ was. I paused and checked in with myself. The grocery store was overwhelming, and usually, anything besides my blanket touching me would be too much afterwards, but this didn’t feel wrong. It felt right. I shook my head and licked my lips.
