Page 35 of Daddy's Muse
Halfway through my bowl of spaghetti, I set my fork down. “So… is this—” I hesitated, heat creeping up my neck. “I mean, you never said—I don’t want to assume, but—”
Bodin didn’t let me finish. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, and his voice went low. “It’s a date, Colby.”
My stomach swooped.
“Unless you don’t want it to be,” he added, though his piercing gaze didn’t waver.
“I didn’t say that,” I murmured, shoving another piece of bread into my mouth. His lips curved into that satisfied, all-knowing smile again—the one that made me feel like I’d given him the right answer.
We lingered over the last of our food, Bodin nursing his drink while I poked at my final bite of noodles. I wasn’t ready for the night to end; my brain was buzzing with too many questions about him.
“I’m… um, this is the first time anyone’s taken me out.”
The corner of Bodin’s lips turned up, like he was pleased to hear that. “Oh?”
I nodded, staring down into my bowl as my fork spun the spaghetti around it. “I’m just… I think I’m a little high-maintenance,” I admitted, trying to keep my tone light. “I like… being taken care of. In certain ways. And…”
Bodin’s eyes sharpened, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Not that I expect anyone to—” I started.
“You want somethingmorethan most people are willing to give,” he said quietly, like he wasn’t asking, just stating a truth I’d never voiced out loud. “You want someone who knows what you need before you have to say it. Someone who doesn’t get tired of giving it.”
The words sank into me, heavier than I expected. “That’s… a little specific,” I said with a broken laugh, trying to deflect.
He just sipped his drink, eyes still on me. “It’s just the truth.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I busied myself with stacking my plate on top of his for the server. When the check came, he slid his card across without even glancing at the total.
“Come on,” he said as we stood. “I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m going to. I want to.”
My breath caught in my throat.
Outside, the air was cool, the streets quiet. Bodin kept close throughout the walk, his hand brushing against mine every once in a while, making the urge to justtake italmost irresistible. The nearer we got to my dorm, the more that easy warmth from dinner twisted into something else—a low thrum of awareness, maybe even nerves.
And when the dorm building finally came into view, I realized that he’d been leading the way.
There were twelve residence halls on campus, and I knew I hadn’t mentioned which one was mine.
“Have you been here before?” I asked, slowing my steps.
He didn’t answer right away, just smiled faintly. “I’ve been near here.”
“Near here?”
“I told you—I’m not a student,” he said, almost playfully, though it didn’t quite erase the edge in his tone. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be… around.”
The way he said it made my skin prickle.
Later that night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the cartoon I was streaming on my phone as background chatter. I was a little too preoccupied with my thoughts to actually watch and pay attention to the show.
The dorm was quiet—most people had either gone home for the weekend or were out late enjoying their Friday night—but my head wouldn’t shut up long enough for sleep.
I kept replaying the dinner in my mind, all the little details I’d been too flustered to fully process at the time.
