Page 126 of Pretty Broken Wings
No. I deserve this.
As we pull out of the driveway, Gage’s fist is clenched on his thigh again. But as we drive, it loosens up until he’s leaning back in his seat, fully relaxed.
When we get there, I dart out of my seat before he can get the door. But this time, Gage just waits for me on his side, arm held out with eyebrow raised.
“No knight in shining armor today?” I grab his arm and walk him up to the doors.
Gage stares at me for a second, then a smile crosses his face. “You’re quite the gentleman for both of us.”
I can’t keep the small laugh out of my tone. “Gentleman is a step down from knight. I suppose I’ll have to try harder.”
He pats my hand. “We don’t all start off perfect.”
The place is fancy. Not suit and tie, but still fancy with muted lighting, slow classical music, and a wait to be seated. Suddenly, I feel extremely out of place in my old clothes and unstyled hair.
Then, Gage pulls me toward the hostess, who seats us in the back, away from other people. It’s a booth table, and I slide into the bench. I’m grateful to have something solid at my back so I don’t feel like people are staring at me. Gage slides in beside me, which only makes my heart pound more. I’m so out of my element right now.
“Raven?” Gage asks.
I blink. The hostess is staring at me expectantly. Oh. Drinks.
“Just water is fine. Thank you.”
She smiles at us and disappears.
“You okay?”
I clear my throat. “Oh, yeah. Fine.” My voice sounds a little off, and I pray he doesn’t call me out on it.
Gage just nods. He’s so big that he takes up almost all the space on the bench. It feels weird not to have him seated across from me. If I want to see him, I have to crane my neck to the side.
“I can move,” I offer. Maybe bench seats are always his.
“No.” I sense his arm sliding across the back of the bench, although he doesn’t touch me.
I squirm. This feels different than the bookstore. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing.
“Oh, you didn’t know? You’re going to be feeding me like a baby bird.”
I snap my gaze over to him.
There’s the tiniest arch of his eyebrow and twitch of the corner of his mouth.
“You’re so stupid.” I shake my head, turning back to see that the lady has returned with our drinks. She slides a pink, fruity-looking drink Gage’s way and a water mine. As soon as she leaves, Gage switches our drinks.
“I didn’t order–”
“A sword. For the lady knight.” He waves his hand at the drink, where a garnish of fruit is speared by a tiny, fluorescent pink plastic sword.
I feel my defenses crumble. Jesus. Can he be at least a little less thoughtful so I can keep him at arm’s length?
“Hmmm. What do I want to eat?” Gage grabs a menu and opens it. Only he’s holding it upside down.
Gently, I pull it from his hands and flip it over.
He gasps in minor outrage. “You trying to make me look stupid?”
“No, just–”
