Page 23 of Monster's Past

I jump at the sound of his voice. “Hi.” I wince at how squeaky it comes out.

A hand on the small of my back offers me more comfort than I expect it to. I lean into his touch, already yearning for more of it.

“Shall we?” He gestures vaguely to the grounds.

I nod. “Though I didn’t think this through, I’ve no idea where we can go.”

“Luckily, I thought of that.” He pats his bag.

I give him a questioning look.

“I brought a blanket,” he responds. “I figured that the benches might be a bit too public. So now we can choose where to sit.”

I bite my lip and nod. “Do you have anywhere in mind?”

He reaches down and takes my hand, sending tingles shooting up and down my arm in response.

“Come with me.” His voice is low and full of promise.

Neither of us says anything as we make our way through the grounds until we come to a small patch of grass enclosed by some of the academy walls.

But more importantly, walls without windows.

“This is a good spot,” I suggest.

He nods and opens his bag, pulling out a chequered blanket. A surprising choice especially when he hasn’t had much time to prepare for us actually going on a date.

He spreads it out on the ground and gestures for me to take a seat.

I do, and pull out the strawberries that I brought with me. “It feels naughty to have taken food out of the dining room,” I admit.

He lets out a bemused laugh and takes a seat next to me. “I know what you mean. Though I didn’t do it this time, I had some shortbread Mum sent me.” He pulls out a battered metal tin and pulls off the lid, offering me a piece. The sweet scent of freshly baked biscuits fills my nose, and from the kitchen paper inside, I’m going to have to guess they’re homemade.

“Are you sure?” I ask, not wanting to take something so personal from him without checking first.

“Of course. I brought them to share.”

“They’ll go perfectly with strawberries,” I respond, putting them between us and taking a piece of shortbread. “Does your mum send you baked treats a lot?”

He nods. “At least once every couple of weeks. I think it’s her way of saying she misses having me at home.” He sets the tin down and takes one for himself.

“That’s so cute.”

“Ah, just what I was going for.” He wiggles his ears, making me laugh in response.

“If you want me to think that you’re something other than cute, you should stop doing cute things.”

“Then again, I like hearing you laugh,” he responds. “So maybe I should keep doing them.”

A blush rises to my cheeks and I glance away, nibbling on the piece of shortbread to save myself from blurting out the first thing on my mind. The buttery goodness melts on my tongue.

“How is your sister’sFrankensteinpaper going?” I ask once I’ve regained my thoughts properly.

“Well, I think? She’s being a bit cagey about it.”

“Which means she hasn’t even started writing the essay,” I joke. “I used to do that with my dad.”

“You might be onto something there.”