Page 44 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“What?”

“Not the fun night I hoped for.”

I snorted. “Here, give me two minutes.” I turned back to the piece of leather now completely crumpled in my fist. I smoothed it out before cutting it into shape. One golden eyelet and a keyring later, I had crafted a smiley face keychain. “Proof of having fun.”

He wordlessly took his key from his pocket and worked the keychain onto it.

“You can’t plan for every asshole coming for your throat,” he said, laying a careful touch to my shoulder, “you can have the best defense in the world, but someone’s going to land a punch, and you have to roll with it or you’ll get knocked out.”

“Is that MMA wisdom?”

“Yes, and you know what else is?”

“What?”

“Defense doesn’t win a fight.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Up you go, let’s put some ice on that before it swells up.”

“Karaoke?” I asked.

“Next time.”

He had the ice cream cooler stored in the winter garden, where he directed me onto the soft cerise chaise lounge and wedged a cold pack between my shoulder and the backrest.

Despite not completing his obstacle course, I got my ice cream with all the toppings. Victor sat down next to me with a single scoop of mint chocolate chip. That just looked like a sad excuse for ice cream compared to the mountain in my bowl - but back when he’d first come to work for me, he wouldn’t even touch ice cream. He’d eat an apple, or a carrot. A carrot?! While I was shoveling down pure sugar. So I had swallowed every mean comment about his choice of ice cream flavor when he’d finally given in, even if it was pure toothpaste.

Victor was leaning back on the chaise, eyes on the backyard. The light from the winter garden illuminated a few feet of grass already frosting over with the onset of night, but the rest was complete darkness. Without much to see out there, I allowed my gaze to linger on Victor.

He’d been growing out his buzzcut, but even the soft hazelnut swoop over his forehead didn’t soften his features. His face was all sharp slopes. The steep cut of his forehead and nose reminded me of a mountain ridge slicing a line between sky and earth.

Defense doesn’t win a fight.

“I wasn’t holding back when I kissed you.”

If he was surprised by my words, he didn’t show it. “No, but you were drunk,” he said, not sparing me a glance.

“So taking risks only counts when I’m sober?”

His eyes narrowed but he didn’t reply, waiting where I was going with this.

“I’m as good as sober now. Between falling off the chair and this ice cream, I can barely feel the rum.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “So in the name of not holding back and having fun… I still like the idea of kissing you.”

A moment of silence swelled between us as he flexed his jaw and stared up through the glass roof to the starless sky, where a single airplane was passing by. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Oh.

Oh.

My insides twisted into a painful knot, ice cream dangerously close to making a reappearance. “Okay.” I blinked against the rapid onset of tears. “I’m sorry. I thought… I guess I thought wrong. Sorry.” I grabbed my dishes and scrambled to my feet. The ice pack dropped to the ground behind me.

“Cordelia.”

“Please, don’t say anything right now.”

He followed me to the kitchen. Wordlessly putting his bowl in the sink after me, hovering as I gripped the countertop to steady my shaking hands. I couldn’t even look at him, but I felt him next to me. The warmth radiating off his body and seeping through my skin. His stupid earthy aftershave tickling my nose.I wanted to tell him to leave. At the same time, I wanted to crawl into him and feel that warmth skin-on-skin.