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Pollux’s dark brows lower. “What…just happened in your brain?”
“Huh? Nothing. Probably the caffeine, right?”
He flicks his gaze to my cup, then back up. “You…haven’t taken a sip yet.”
I tilt my head. “Do the fumes alone not do anything?”
His mouth opens and hangs there a moment. Wetting his lips, he says, “You’re a teacher. Shouldn’t you know the answer to that?” He scrubs a hand over his mouth. “True, scents can impact taste. Scent accounts for a high percentage of taste, but caffeine would need to be powderized in high concentrations for it to take effect solely through the olfactory organs.”
His brain…it’s…beautiful.
Shaking that thought from my head, I take a sip of my chai and realize ordering it was a horrible choice. As the spices invade, all I can picture tasting is him. It paints a sequel to my dream in my dirty little garbage brain, adding tongues and teeth and…
I need to stop.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say in a valiant effort to get my mind back on track.
“Right. Yes. You did. Something. Not caffeine.”
“No, not caffeine. But the facts are interesting.”
His expression softens as he lifts his cup to his lips.
I try to contain myself in response to the way he’s watching me over the rim of the lid. It’s more difficult than I want to admit. So I distract myself with the point. “I was at the library the other day, and I saw Willow.”
He chokes and coughs, adjusting his position in such a way that our knees bump.
A shock goes soaring up my spine.
“Willow?” he croaks. “And…her cat?”
“Oddly, yes. I didn’t know cats were allowed in the library.”
Pollux swears. “Some libraries have cats as companions for the staff and patrons. He’s not a library cat.”
Good to…know. Why does Pollux know something like that? Why does he have a textbook knowledge about caffeine? Why does he have a miniature working guillotine in his kitchen? I suppose I could go on. Anyway… “Apparently there are movie nights every Thursday at eight at her house? And, I don’t know, when I was by your house recently, work seemed to start at ten. She invited me. Or, really, all three of us. You, me, Meda… Two hours should be enough time to catch a movie before work, right?”
He exhales, meets my eyes beneath a lowered brow, and grumbles, “Is it important to you?”
“Is it important to me that I go to a movie night with you guys?” And, possibly, a handful of cult members? “Yes.” I’ve just decided. “It is important to me.”
Pollux sighs. “Very well. I suppose I’ve been putting this event off for long enough.”
“You’ve been invited to Willow’s movie night before?”
Looking utterly exhausted, Pollux rubs his temple. “Many times.”
“But you’ve never gone?” That’s not faithful cult member behavior. Are the movie nights with Willow independent of cult activity? Are there two cults? One run by Willow and one run by Cael??
“It’s an interesting dynamic.”
I dare push further. “Would Cael not approve?”
“Cael understands why I did what I did. It’s Zylus and Willow who may not.” Combing his fingers back through his hair, he says, “I will do what I can in order to ensure things go smoothly. Would you accept waiting until next week’s movie night? I’m in the middle of a…project right now. It’s taking up a lot of my time and mental energy.”
On the one hand, giving him time to prepare seems like it could defeat the purpose. On the other…he’s seemed anything but bad tonight. He’s seemed almost entirely like a normal, tired father. Maybe he’s stuck in a weird cult. Maybe Andromeda isn’t the only one who needs rescuing.
“Next week works for me,” I say.
