Page 47 of Hero of Havoc

I’m too enthralled with watching her every move, hypnotized, to worry over it.

Bypassing the few students cutting across campus, we take the path around the edge of the main academy building toward the clifftops.

The clifftops, and lo and behold, Alaric is perched right there.

My stomach knots at the sight, guilt threading through me, but it quickly disappears when my mate gasps beside me.

“What is that?” she asks, nervously pointing toward the checkered blanket already laid out on the grass.

Red and silver.

Fire and Air.

“For us,” I mutter, pulling at my hair, relishing in the tension as I wait with bated breath for her response.

“Is there food in that picnic basket?” she asks, gnawing at her bottom lip, and I offer her a nervous, tight smile.

“If Alaric hasn’t raided it already,” I admit as she comes to a stop beside the little setup.

Doubt quickly burns in my mind, and I part my lips, but before I can breathe a single word, she’s squeezing my arm.

“This is so thoughtful. Do you mind if I sit? My legs are aching,” she murmurs, brushing a loose curl behind her ear, and all I can do is nod.

She kicks off her sneakers, placing them neatly beside the blanket before she sits cross-legged to the right of the wicker basket perched in the middle. I watch in awe as she tilts her head back, basking in the sun before she sighs. She takes a moment to glance out at the horizon before peering over her shoulder at me.

“Are you going to show me what’s inside or starve me to death?” she muses, and Alaric huffs.

“He’s probably too nervous to move.”

“I’m not,” I grumble.

I definitely am, but they don’t need to know that.

Before I can overthink it and prove Alaric right, I unlace my combat boots and take the empty spot beside her, stretching my legs out instead of attempting some flexible shit like crossing my legs.

“I may have gotten my mom to help,” I mutter, unclasping the basket to reveal the contents.

Another wave of uncertainty threatens to claim me, but the beaming smile on her face forces me to swallow it down.

“Greta is quite possibly my favorite person in the whole entire world,” she breathes, eyeing the goodies inside as I grin.

“She’s pretty epic,” I add, removing the fruit platter, spread of cheeses, and variety of crackers, before reaching for the utensils and bottle of water.

It’s not as exciting as a bottle of champagne, I’m sure, but there’s a party tonight and I’m trying to be mindful of the fact that she’s going to need to be as hydrated as possible.

Besides, it’s my favorite brand.

“If I drowned in this water, I wouldn’t be sad,” she blurts, grinning at the glass bottle, and my eyes widen with surprise.

“I’d fall with you.”

You didn’t last time.

The words are like lead on my tongue before they thrum to life, threatening to spill, but I refuse. There’s a time to explain, but now isn’t it. This is about trying to let the walls down. Whose? Maybe both of ours, but being here and trying is the first step on that long, long road. I have to let the rest come naturally instead of bombarding her.

“Was all of this your mom’s idea?” she asks as I remove the protective cover from the boards that are perfectly spread out to look all fancy.

“The food, yes. The rest? No.”