Page 30 of Castor
“So,” Simon said, grabbing his cup. “What’s going on between you and Castor?”
“Nothing.” I added caramel-flavored creamer to my coffee and stirred it.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”
I met his hazel eyes. A knowing gleam shone in them. “We’ve had a little bit of fun together, but that’s all.”
“Do you like him?”
“I like certain parts of him.” I took a drink.
Simon sighed. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I. It’s just sex between me and Red. Nothing more.”
“Oh.” His face fell.
“I know you’re a romantic at heart, Si, but not all of us get a happily ever after. Some of us don’t want one.”
Or so I told myself. Keeping everyone at an emotional distance was easier than letting them in. Safer. Because the truth was, I was afraid of getting close to someone. Afraid of being vulnerable. Spending the first few hundred years of my life believing the world was out to destroy me probably had a lot to do with that.
I had never allowed myself to love orbeloved.
“Castor’s a good guy,” Simon said, drawing my attention back to him. “He’s going through a rough time right now, but he seems happier lately. Especially this morning.”
I remembered the night we’d hooked up when I had mentioned the fighting pit. A faraway look had appeared in his eyes. So had shadows. Was that what Simon was talking about? Castor was struggling with the trauma from that night?
The end of his statement stood out to me. “Castor was happy this morning, huh?” That’s when I realized I was smiling a little.
“Seems like he’s not the only one. But that’s none of my business.” Simon sipped his coffee and left the room.
I returned to the front of the shop when the bell above the door chimed.
Four young adults—three girls and a boy—walked in and cut across the room to the Victorian gothic section, most of which had come from the auction sale from Ravenwood Mansion earlier that year. One of the girls grabbed two antique candle holders, and the boy picked up the crystal ball that had been sitting collecting dust for months.
The “curiosities” angle catered toward a younger crowd; so did the supernatural and witchy-type decor. It was a smart business decision on Simon’s part.
“Can I interest you in this one-of-a-kind spyglass?” Gray asked, popping up beside them. “Legend has it that it was owned by a revered pirate captain back in the day.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I said, fighting a smile. He was such a little shit. “That’s not true. It came from a history professor’s naval collection.”
“But itcouldhave belonged to a pirate,” Gray countered, wiggling it around. When none of the teens took the bait, he sighed and held the spyglass to his chest. “Fine. I’ll keep it.”
The girls giggled, and the boy smiled at Gray like a lovesick puppy, before the four of them checked out their items at the register and left the store.
“Gray,” Simon said in a warning tone. “You can’t lie to the customers.”
As Gray tried to justify his actions—which mainly involved him pouting and making his big brown eyes even bigger—I texted Castor.
Me:I heard you’re leaving for Greece tomorrow. Thanks for letting me know.
Red:Hey, you’re the one who kept kissing me to shut me up each time I tried to talk last night.
I smiled.
Me:How long will you be gone?
Red:Idk yet. It depends on how the meeting goes, I guess. Why? You gonna miss me?
