Page 33 of Tusk & Puck
I actually understand her point of view quite well. “Maybe you don’t have all that, but you do have friends. And a strong community that has your back, I’m sure. You have plenty of people you can trust to help get you out of a bad spot.”
Melody looks up at me. There’s a thought crossing her mind, but I can’t pinpoint how she feels about it. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Her response surprises me, but the waiter comes back to take our orders. By the time the process is over and he’s left again, the mood has changed. There’s a sense of relief between us, and I don’t want to keep pushing her into such a negative conversation.I decide, instead, to utilize my time-honored standby for conversation with a lovely woman.
“That’s a nice shade of nail polish,” I say. “May I?” I reach out to take her hand. She seems a bit stunned but allows me to take it. Her nails are manicured and painted a light shade of pink. I don’t know much about nursing, but I know they wear gloves. She must not have many opportunities to show off like this.
“Thanks. I got them done earlier today. It’s coral pink.” She blushes, her cheeks quickly beginning to match her nails.
I rub my thumb over the top of her hand. She feels smooth and a little warm. Her pulse is beating quickly. I can feel the thump in her wrist across my palm. “I’m not supposed to have painted nails in the clinic so I’ll have to remove it all before Monday.”
So she did this for our date. That’s a fantastic sign. It means I’m right. She’s soft and sensual inside. I just need to have patience.
Melody slowly pulls her hand back. Not too quickly, though, showing she wasn’t uncomfortable.Our salads show up, and I can’t help but make a slight snarl at the offering.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Hm. Carrots. I always forget to ask. Can’t stand them.”
For some reason, Melody finds this fact funny. She bursts into laughter and moves her bowl towards mine.
“Here, just shove them onto my salad,” she says. “I love carrots. They’re full of vitamins.”
“You can have all the carrots your heart desires.”
Again, her cheeks go red, and she smiles wide. I think I’ve scored a goal with her. “Ryan also hates carrots.”
“The boy continues to have great taste,” I say before taking a bite of my now carrot-free salad. The rest of the meal continues like this. Conversation becomes easier and lighter. Melody is starting to open up, though it’s mostly surface-level. I still have a ways to go with her, but I can tell I’m making progress.
As we partways for the evening, a happy smile playing on her lips, I have a thought. I want to share this with Verog, badly. I want him to know how well this is. I needsomeoneto brag to! But I promised Melody we’d keep this to ourselves, at least for now.
Still, he introduced. Would it really be so terrible to just tell him?
18
JAROMIR
It takes me a moment to recognize him when he walks up to me. For a second, I think I’m being approached by a completely random orc wearing a polo shirt and a beanie. Then, I notice his eyes and his smile, and suddenly, it’s him.
“What’s the matter?” he teases. “Do I look that good?”
He does look good, actually. The wig doesn’t look fake at all. Whatever he’s used to cover his tattoos looks just like real skin unless you really focus on it. But most of all, he looks good in all the ways he normally looks good. He has the same strong body and sharply chiseled features. The only difference is now he looks like a guy in a sling who has some complicated business job that would take him two hours to explain, rather than a hockey star.
Obviously, there’s no chance I’m going to tell him that though.
“You look like you got the CIA to put together a new identity for you,” I reply. “Are we just going on a date, or are we going to be testifying against the Corelli family, too?”
“I thought you were the one who wanted us to be careful about anyone seeing us. If you want me to look more like myself…”
“No, no, you look great,” I tell him. “And I do appreciate it, really.”
“Well, you look great, too,” he says and smiles as he looks at me, which makes me realize he means it. “Your dress is lovely. Though it might stand out just a little where we’re going.”
He’s been cagey about exactly where he picked for our second date. All he’s said so far is that it’s a very special place and he knows that I’ll love it. I’ve been trying to get him to reveal it all week but nothing.
“You’re gonna tell me where we’re going now, right?” I ask.
“That depends. Are you ready for what you’re about to see? Or is your heart too full of fear? This isn’t just any old place. You will not walk out of where we’re going the same person that you walked in. Are you ready for that? Or would you prefer that I allow you to savor your last few moments of ignorance before you encounter true wonder?”