Page 7 of Sun and Stone (Elementally Yours #5)

7. Here Comes the Sun

My shift at the party supply store seems never-ending.

An older woman flags me down while eyeing the selection of birthday candles. "Excuse me, do you have any lavender candles?"

"You bet!" I say, quickly retrieving a box. "These are our best-selling birthday candles. Perfect for any celebration." Best-selling is a stretch at a party supply store where most people can order the same thing online and get much more variety but close enough.

It's been two weeks since my disastrous last meeting with Fynn, and I still can't stop kicking myself.

Like he's the damn sun, life feels darker without him. Without him, there's nothing to look forward to. No silver lining to my impending doom as a wizard. I'm just... stuck. Trapped in my dead-end jobs with no idea what comes next.

For the customer in need of candles, I end up ordering the ones she wants, which means I'll get the joy of seeing her scowl again. I force myself to stay chipper. "I'll make sure to call you as soon as they arrive."

"Yeah, whatever. Should have just gone online," she grumbles under her breath. "Could have ordered them myself."

The joys of customer service jobs.

When Fynn texts me after my shift, it takes me totally by surprise. I can't stop the grin that spreads across my face. This is my chance to make things right. Maybe I haven't totally screwed things up.

‘Friends’ and ‘benefits’ wasn't exactly what I had in mind when we hit it off, but that doesn't matter now. Friends, acquaintances, people who occasionally trade small talk, we can be anything. I'll take whatever I can get. I know that I want him in my life.

I'm so excited to see him again that I don't even think about where he asks to meet for a late lunch.

I really should have paid more attention.

Anything in French should set off alarm bells. Maybe this Chateau au Something-I-Can't-Pronounce won't be too fancy?

No such luck.

The Chateau is housed in a refurbished historic ballroom, all gleaming gold accents and intricate moldings. More than one massive chandelier hangs from the high ceilings. Of course. What's fancier than one ostentatious chandelier? An assload of ostentatious chandeliers.

This is so far out of my league, it's not even funny.

"Perry!" Fynn waves me over to his table, which seems to annoy the host—maitre d,' probably called a maitre d' here.

"I'm glad you came," he says with a big smile as I sit down.

Me too. Glad to see him, at any rate. Though I'm not as thrilled to be here. My eyes go wide as I take in the prices on the menu—$45 for an appetizer?! Hopefully I'm not sweating so much I need to use the crisp white linen tablecloth to towel off.

Fynn sees my sticker shock. "Don't worry, this is my treat."

"What? No, Fynn, I can't let you—"

He waves a hand dismissively. "Nonsense. Consider it an apology for how I acted last time."

"I won't say no to an apology burrito or a pretzel or something but this…"

Fynn just smiles earnestly. "Perry, it'd hardly be fair to spring a place like this on you and ask you to pay. Anyway, there's a reason I chose to eat here."

"Look, I overstepped and pushed you too hard last time. I'm sorry," I apologize. "I definitely don't deserve all this."

The other patrons are all dressed to the nines, sipping wine and enjoying their gourmet meals. I tug at the collar of my shirt self-consciously, suddenly very aware of how shabby I must in comparison. My clothes are as chic and stylish as budget-shopping allows, and always a few seasons behind the latest trends.

"I wanted to treat us both," he says softly. "I owe you an apology, Perry. I shouldn't have kicked you out like that. I was just... overwhelmed, I guess. A lot of feelings came rushing back, and I needed some time to process it all."

"I understand. I'm sorry for pushing you too hard."

He smiles ruefully. "The truth is, I'm still feeling overwhelmed. That's why we're here. There's something I've been wanting to try, and I thought this would be the perfect occasion. It's an incentive for me and an apology for you. Let me treat you, okay? It's half selfish anyway."

"Is that so?"

He doesn't need to win me over anymore. I can barely afford a drink of water in this place. And with those big green eyes and that face, all he'd really need to do is bat his lashes at me and I'd agree to anything.

"We're only having drinks and dessert," he says. "Not a whole meal. And there's our wine now."

Before I can respond, a waiter appears at our table, carrying two crystal wine glasses and a bottle of deep ruby red wine. He carefully pours out the fragrant liquid, a rich scent filling the air as he does.

In the morning, I was helping customers find candles and party hats and now here I am, sitting across from Fynn in the gilded splendor of Chateau Whatever, sipping what is probably the fanciest wine I've ever tasted. I take a few fortifying sips, and then broach everything that happened last time. The radar, its purpose, how it reacted to him.

"Oh," he says when I've finished.

"I'm sorry. I was surprised when the radar reacted to you. I probably could have told you in a thousand better ways."

"Don't be so sure. I didn't want to hear it." Fynn takes his own healthy drink of wine, forcing the glass away a moment later. "I'm trying to savor that, not gulp it down.”

"Honestly? It just tastes like wine to me." Maybe my palette isn't advanced. "The most expensive wine I've ever had, but still wine. And we have a whole bottle."

"You're right." He knocks the glass back. "I'll savor the next one."

I refill his glass. "Guess that answers how you're taking this."

"I'm scared," he admits. "But you were just the messenger. I'm sorry for taking it out on you. While I didn't want to hear it, if we keep seeing each other, um, as friends… if we keep hanging out and even hooking up, and I eventually learned about this, well… in hindsight, telling me up front was the best option."

Anything else would feel like a betrayal.

Especially as we're… like he said, friends. Friends with benefits. Some very insane unexpected benefits as a result of this dinner. It's hard not to feel like I'm being wined and dined. I am. Just not romantically.

Fynn was probably right there. Unfortunately. No matter what my heart, my gut, and other regions that aren't my brain might be telling me, not rushing into something romantic is for the best. Because it's not only me going through something major. It seems Fynn i s too.

"I'm glad you told me, Perry. No matter what the outcome, I do need to know."

"But if it's a mistake and I got your hopes up..."

"I still need to know," he insists. "The trouble is that I have no idea what to do with this information." Fynn huffs a laugh, falling back in his chair. "I thought this chapter of my life was behind me. That I had closure… okay, maybe I even liked that there was still that tiny piece of hope because I wasn't bound. But…"

"You weren't expecting a real chance at becoming a wizard," I fill in.

"Yeah. Thinking that I had virtually no shot at branding made it easier to walk away, but that isn't the only reason I quit." Fynn drums his fingers nervously on the tabletop, eyeing his wine like he's thinking about not savoring the second glass either.

"When I hit The Danger Zone and my time was running out," he continues. "I didn't like the person I became. I don't want to go overboard again and push away those close to me."

"The elements are powerful forces," I say, thinking he's being too hard on himself. "It's easy for people to get caught up and lose control."That's part of why we study so long and why the elements wait to issue tests; magic is a lot of power and responsibility to handle.”

"No, I can't even blame my element. The sun's power didn’t warp me or control me. I let myself lose sight of everything else." He clutches his napkin tightly, looking down at the table as he continues quietly. "If I go after magic again, how do I prevent myself from making the same mistakes? I don't want to be that obsessed, desperate person again. What's the point of gaining magic if I lose myself in the process?"

Man, I wish we were at a booth instead of a table. Then I could scoot around to his side and wrap him in a big hug. There isn't much I can say. Whether he starts seeking a brand again is something only he can decide.

There's only one thing I can do: promise to be there with him on this journey, wherever it leads.

"Things are different this time. You've learned from your mistakes." I reach across the table and take his hand. "And I'll be around to support you."

He squeezes my hand for a second before releasing it and shaking his head. "No, I can't ask you to do that."

"Sounds like a fair deal to me," I reason. "You’re helping me cope with the prospect of not having magic. I’ll help you accept the idea of gaining magic. And you'd be doing me a favor because I won’t have to feel so bad about crying on your shoulder."

"Are you saying that if you were in my position, you’d face your fears and go for it?"

"I don’t know.” Telling him to go for it doesn’t feel like my place. But I think he should face it, whether he goes for it or not. “All I can tell you is that I thought you deserved to know. If the radar wasn’t mistaken, it sounds like you might have a really good chance at a brand. It’s no guarantee, but…"

"But?"

"You deserve to know that,” I repeat with a shrug. “In case it changes anything."

Dessert arrives before Fynn reaches a decision. The waiter glides over and gently sets down gold-rimmed dessert plates. I'm afraid to ask whether it's real gold.

“Good thing we still have some of the wine left,” I joke.

Fynn laughs, breaking the somber mood.

We both reach a silent conclusion to be less sappy and teary and enjoy the lavish wine and dessert. Anything else would be an expensive waste. And I get his point, if we’re going to talk about our deep insecurities and fears, it does help to have something fancy and indulgent waiting for us as a reward.

The plates hold decadent truffles nestled on a bed of shimmering sugar pearls. My mouth waters at the sight.

"Madeline Truffles," Fynn says with reverence. "They're a specialty here."

I lean in for a closer look, taking in the rich, velvety chocolate shell that shines in the light. Yum. I may not have a fancy enough palette to appreciate fine wine, but chocolate is chocolate. My sweet tooth isn't as strong as his but a fancy place like this must make some killer chocolate.

"Hold on," Fynn says. "You should know this isn't just a dessert truffle. It's an actual truffle."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's a mushroom."

My brows shoot up in surprise, staring at the pretty sugar confection. "What, really? There's a mushroom in there? Why?"

"It's a delicacy," Fynn insists. Right. Apparently, any food combo that no sane person would put together can be called a delicacy when you dress it up and sell it for a large sum of money.

I eye the dessert skeptically. "It's a chocolate-covered mushroom."

"It's an experience?"

I can't help but chuckle. "Yeah, I'll give you that." Rich people are so weird.

Fynn doesn't seem fazed by my skepticism in the slightest. In fact, he's already taken an enormous bite out of his own truffle, giving me a big thumbs- up as he chews slowly, relishing each bite.

A bead of chocolate ganache clings to the corner of his mouth. Unable to stop myself, I reach out and gently swipe my thumb across the corner of his lip, catching the stray bit of chocolate. Fynn's eyes widen slightly, but he holds my gaze, his bright green eyes becoming darker, more heated.

My thumb still rests against the softness of his lips. Fynn's tongue darts out, his pink lips parting slightly as he tastes the chocolate on my thumb. A shiver runs down my spine at the sight, desire coiling tight in the pit of my stomach.

Then, as suddenly as the moment begins, it's over. Fynn leans back, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his lips, and he raises one eyebrow in a silent challenge. "Your turn, Per. Don't knock it 'til you try it."

His lips are sweeter and more appealing than a dressed-up mushroom, but he chose to share this special treat with me—and I am curious.

I spear the truffle with my fork, the dark chocolate shell cracking under the pressure of the utensil. Rich, decadent ganache oozes out, and I bring the truffle to my lips, the aroma of chocolate and something earthier hitting my nose.

The first thing I register is the velvety smooth texture of the ganache, the chocolate melting on my tongue. But there's another flavor, something musky and almost nutty, that blends together in a surprisingly delightful way. My eyes widen in surprise.

It's not bad. Rolling a mushroom in chocolate and calling it a delicacy? That idea would never cross my mind in a million years. But I'm glad I got the chance to taste this strange culinary experiment for myself.

Now I can say I've had a chocolate covered mushroom. I'm not sure when or why I'd need to say such a thing, but… it's certainly an experience. When was the last time I truly let loose and had some outrageous, crazy experience like this?

Between the endless grind of studying, working multiple jobs, and the constant pressure to prove myself... I can't even remember the last time I did something solely for the novelty and pleasure of it. Work, school, magic repeat. That’s been my life for… too long. Sometimes it’s nice to stop and smell the mushrooms.

Fynn knew this would be an experience, and he wanted to share it with me. I

"You know," I murmur, my gaze locking with Fynn's as I reach across the table to take his hand, intertwining our fingers. "I'm really glad you brought me here tonight."

"It was worth it?" he asks, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"I wouldn't go that far," I deadpan. " No mushroom is worth triple digits. But… the experience might be."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely. Thank you for sharing this with me."

"Thank you," Fynn says. "You've given me a second chance."

Oh. "Does that mean…"

He nods. "I'm going to go after magic again and try to earn my brand."