Page 57 of Fallen God

“Well, I know you like sweet, Lola, so I'm guessing you've come here to–”

“Shut up, Louis.” I said again, putting more force into it.

“What, so you're not going to accept?”

Over his shoulder, my eyes met Dion's. Their grey smokiness was duller than I had ever seen it and growing duller by the second as my brother's thoughtless words hit him.

“She wouldn't do that.” Tate appeared behind my brother, his arms already outstretched to grab me in a hug. They were all huggers, all of them.

The bad boys of Dionysus Rising were all secret cuddlers.

And usually I didn’t mind; I was a hugger as well. Especially with my friends, which they all were, but I didn't want to hug anyone. I didn't have long before I had to get back to my class. My boss had already been more than understanding. I didn't want to push my luck.

“Guys, can me and Dion have a minute?” I held up my hand for Tate to stop where he was.

Murmurs met my request, but not one of them moved.

“Fuck.” Jax ran his hand through his hair. “She’s going to fucking say no.”

“You don’t know that.” Elodie clutched at his arm, pulling him away. “And shush.”

“Best get a rehab ready for him, cos–”

Finally, Dion straightened to his full height. And the vulnerable air was gone. His eyes shone with anger, his lips curled in a sneer. He was the epitome of rockstar aloofness. Hell, if you searched up cocky rockstar in the dictionary, a picture of him would pop out at you. I didn't know where the sudden change of demeanour had come from and I knew even less what to do with it. It didn't look like an act to me. He was in complete control of himself and his emotions. Whereas I was a shaking mess.

“God, will you guys just leave?” He snapped. “I'm not a child. You know I can handle rejection if that's what's going to happen. I would just rather not have you lot as an audience.”

They shuffled out, still muttering amongst themselves. The room should have felt bigger with them gone, but somehow, with just me and Dion in there, it felt smaller. Claustrophobic.

Nerves fluttered in my stomach. Now we were alone, really alone, we could talk candidly. Idly, I twisted the hem of my blouse and stared at my feet.

“Lo–”

“I'm not here to reject you,” I blurted before he could finish saying my name.

“Thank God.” Dion's shoulders sagged. The bad boy rockstar persona vanished and left the man I knew and loved behind. The one with the smokey kind eyes and vulnerability. I loved the cocky side of him as well, but it meant something when he was his most authentic self with me because it meant he trusted me.

I was his safe place.

And honestly, that's all I had ever wanted. To be there for someone, the way they were there for me.

“I honestly thought I'd messed up, and you were going to say no.” He grinned across the room at me, but it was short–lived. Something must have shown on my face, because his shoulders slumped even further. Thrusting his hands into his tight black jeans, he scuffed the toe of his converse on the floor. “There's a but, isn't there? There's always a damn but,” he muttered.

“This thing,” I stammered, unable to find the right words t carry on

One dark eyebrow arched upwards. “Which thing? There seem to be a few of them hanging in the air. My drinking? Isla?” Sighing, he took a step forward, into my space. “Isla is my past, Lola. Didn't she tell you that?” Not letting me answer him, he carried on, his voice growing louder. “And my drinking? That's a battle I'm going to be fighting for the rest of my life. It's a lot to ask anyone to take on.” He ruffled his hair, tugging on it so it stood on end. “Shit, it's too much to ask of anyone, but I'm asking you to and I know that's not fair, but I am crazy about you. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. Living with me is never easy. I drive myself insane most of the time, so God knows what I’ll do to you.”

“Dion, will you shut up?” I took two steps, meeting him in the middle of the room. Reaching up, I cupped his cheeks. “Just shut up and stop rambling like an idiot for five seconds so I can speak.”

He stilled instantly under my hands. “Ok.” He breathed. “You smell so fucking good by the way.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. Isla and your drinking isn't what's troubling me. It’s–” My eyes darted down, giving me away, and his own widened in realisation.

“The baby.”

“The baby,” I parroted. “I don't want you to think that you have to be with me because of the baby and I didn't miss a pill, or at least, I didn't do it on purpose. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Babes, baby or not, I was always going to propose. I planned it for Christmas and then, well, that went tits up on a grand scale, didn’t it?” A self–conscious shrug of those muscled shoulders. “And I know you didn't do it on purpose. I know the baby growing inside of you.” His hand reached between our bodies, and the tips of his fingers brushed against my stomach. “I know that it’s mine, ours. I never had any doubts, not really.”

---