Page 9 of Shattered Obsession

That makes me breathe out a laugh, finally.

Thalia

You don’t even know him.

Xander

Don’t have to.

Thalia

Violence isn’t the answer.

Xander

It’s AN answer.

Thalia

omg

Xander

I’m kidding. Kind of.

The stupid little smile creeps back against my will.

For a second, I imagine something impossible. I imagine meeting Xander first instead. I imagine a date where I’m not already bracing. I imagine sitting across from him at some ridiculous chain restaurant with sticky menus and neon beer signs, telling him my favorite books, laughing too hard and not apologizing for it. I imagine feeling safe.

I let myself want it. Just for a second. Just in the privacy of my own head.

Then I shut it down.

Because the reality is, Damian already asked. Damian already made space for me in his plans. Damian already set the pace, and I already agreed. Part of me is scared that if I back out, he’ll get angry. And another part of me, the part I don’t like looking at too closely, is scared that if I say no, I won’t get asked again.

That’s the part that wins.

The night before the date, Damian calls me again, but this time it’s a video call. When I don't answer right away, I receive a text from him, demanding that I pick up.

I stare at the screen while it rings again. My reflection floats in the tiny corner square. Tired eyes, messy hair, a shirt that doesn’t match the shorts I’m wearing. I almost let it time out.

Then I sigh and swipe to accept.

His face fills the screen. He’s lying back on his couch, shirtless, one arm behind his head like this is casual, like we’ve been doing this forever. The TV flickers behind him, lighting his jaw with a blue hue.

“There you are,” he says.

My stomach knots.

“Hi,” I say, tucking hair behind my ear because I don’t know what else to do with my hands.

“Show me what you’re wearing.”

It’s not flirtatious. It’s expectant.

I laugh like it’s a joke and tilt the camera just enough for him to see I’m in a black and white tank top. He hums low, approving, like I just passed a test I wasn’t told I was taking.

“You’re gonna wear that color tomorrow,” he says, as though it’s already final. Then after a second, he says, “Actually, take me to your closet. I’m going to pick what you wear tomorrow.”