Page 7 of Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

CHAPTER 7

KENNETH

Having dinner with Cody is nowhere near as awkward as I imagined it would be. Meeting in a neutral location probably helped with that, not that I could tell you why it should make any difference.

After fifteen minutes of mildly strained small talk, our conversation shifts to something that feels far more natural. I’m surprised to discover that Cody and I have similar taste in TV shows. I don’t get to watch a lot of television with my schedule, but I do have some favorites, and when Cody casually mentions his plan to go home and binge-watch the second season of a fantasy show I’m into in preparation for the release of the third season, I get…enthusiastic.

Who am I kidding? I turn into a great big nerd.

“Oh, rewatching is so worth it,” I enthuse, barely concentrating on forking a bite of the grilled chicken I ordered into my mouth. “I caught so many extra details on my second watch-through. Keep an eye on some of the items in the dragon king’s hoard. I think there’s a hint in there about the plot with the slayer—Raynard.”

Cody blinks and sits back in his seat, abandoning his salad in preference of smiling at me. “Wait, wait, wait! You’re an Eldertide fanboy?”

“Guilty as charged. It’s great. The suspense, the action, the humor…It’s got everything.”

Cody snickers and shakes his head, as though he just can’t believe it. “ Please tell me you’re shipping Raynard with Mystic. Please.”

“The dragon slayer and the dragon-pretending-to-be-human?” I’m bewildered. “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“But they’re both so hot,” he sighs, his expression turning wistful. “Mystic especially.”

It shouldn’t surprise me that his favorite character is the middle-aged hot guy, but it does. “Mystic is something like four hundred years older than Raynard.”

“So?”

“So, aside from being the entirely wrong species for the dragon slayer , he’s also going to outlive him. He won’t even age as Raynard grows old and dies. No, if you’re going to ship anyone, it should be?—”

“—Please don’t say Raynard and Suzanna .” I chuckle at the distaste that crinkles his nose.

“I was going to say Mystic and Erik.”

“Erik,” he repeats flatly. “The vampire?”

“They’re age appropriate.”

“Erik’s a tool. He’s the actual bad guy.” Cody pouts. “Don’t you want Mystic to be happy? Raynard’s a great fit. Like, okay.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, gesticulating with his hands. It’s adorable. “Ignore the whole dragon/dragon-slayer thing. Star-crossed lovers is totally a trope that would work for them. And magic could resolve the growing-old-while-Mystic-never-ages issue. So, if you set that aside, who is the better match?”

He has a point. Damn it.

“Fine. But you know they’re going to pair Raynard up with Suzanna anyway.”

“Ugh. Yes. One of these days, we’re going to get an epic fantasy show with a gay love story for the leads.”

Something inside me goes all soft and mushy at that, and I can’t help smiling softly. “I hope so.”

We move on to our theories about the cliffhanger, and I reiterate my suspected theories based on my pickups from rewatching the second season, and before I know it, we’ve been sitting across from each other at the diner for almost three hours.

And it was…nice.

“We should do this again,” I find myself saying as I hand over my credit card to pay the check, ignoring his protests that he can cover his own meal. “Hang out. Talk about the show.” It’s not until the words have left my lips that I realize how juvenile I sound.

Maybe hanging around with someone half my age has rubbed off on me.

Cody bites his lip and offers me a shy smile from underneath his lashes. “I’d like that. And, um…” He clears his throat and suggests, “Maybe we could watch episode one of season three together? At my place? Or yours. Or…just forget I?—”

“That sounds great. Our very own private viewing party.”

It’s not until I’m settling into the driver’s seat of my car that I realize I’m genuinely excited about our plans. Half an hour later, when I’m arguing with my cat over my late-night return to my apartment, the reason why I’m so excited hits me like a punch to the solar plexus.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t lonely.