Chapter 2: Dinner Persuasions
1516 Words
“So, do you mind having dinner later tonight, to make up for yesterday?”
I shut my textbook and turned to Caspain. He leaned against a chair in the library, smiling as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t driven me to the smoothie stand where I worked instead of taking me to the restaurant.
“How did you even know I’d be here?”
He pulled out the empty chair beside me, leaving only a sliver of space between us. “You know I’ll always find you wherever you go, daring.”
He winked, then kissed my cheek, ignoring my furrowed brows. I waved away the tingles. His words and touches always did something to me, whether I wanted them or not.
“You knew you wouldn’t last a second without wanting to see my pretty face,” I said, deliberately ignoring the rest.
He smiled wider, brushing his lips against mine, then asked, “So, which restaurant?”
“Guess talking about dinners you don’t keep is becoming your thing. You ditched me for Frank yesterday, remember?” I wiped my lips. “No, thank you.”
He sulked, pressing a hand to his chest. “That's not what happened. Frank got called for a church concert. He needed me around. I wouldn’t just leave you.”
“I felt like you valued his moments with you more than mine,” I said. “And it’s been bothering me.”
He shook his head, trying, and failing to hide a laugh. Then he cupped my face, forcing my lips into a pout. I froze at the warmth of his hands.
“I might have been with Frank,” he said quietly, “but my mind runs to you every single second, Elowen Herbert.”
My chest tightened. My heart reacted before I could stop it.
Caspain was strange sometimes, but I didn’t believe he would intentionally hurt me. That belief was why I kept running back, even when his actions felt controlling.
“It’s fine,” I muttered. “A cozy bistro is okay.”
We headed toward the exit.
“Holy fuck.” He grabbed my wrist suddenly.
“What?”
“It’s Jessica. I don’t want her drama.”
She was already approaching, dark-skinned, pretty, shoving her books into a locker with unnecessary force. She was Caspain’s ex who refused to move on. She used to top my list of problems, before Frank arrived.
“Distract her,” he whispered.
“No,” I said. “I’m done carrying your stress this week.”
“Please,” he begged. “She never listens.”
“You should know how you mess around with girls if you don't like them clingy, she's not my problem to deal with.”
His expression darkened.
“I don’t f**k around. I was drunk. I wanted release. She was there. That’s how it started. It meant nothing.”
Something in my chest went cold.
“You are a…”
He shoved me forward.
When I turned, he blew me a kiss and gave a thumbs-up.
Taking a breath, I turned to Jessica, who was already standing in front of me, craning her neck to look past my shoulder.
She smiled first, wide and sugary, and I smiled back, because that was easier than whatever else I was supposed to do.
“Hey… um, hi,” I said, letting out a small, awkward laugh.
Her smile vanished.
“Where the hell is my Caspain?” She snapped. “Have you hidden him from me the same way you stole him? I saw him standing right behind you.”
My face burned. “Oh. Uh. No,” I said quickly.
“He was just… here a second ago.”
She stared at me like I was something unpleasant she’d stepped on.
I shifted on my feet, forcing another smile.
“So… how have you been?”
That earned me a strange look, then, unexpectedly, a slow smile. Not a friendly but curious one.
“Aren’t you bothered?” She asked. “About your boyfriend and Frank?”
My stomach dipped.
“Bothered how?” I asked lightly, even though my pulse had started racing.
“They were acting weird at a church concert,” she said. “Really weird.”
I nodded once, pretending to consider it.
“Oh. That’s… interesting.”
I stepped back, still smiling, even as my chest tightened. “I really have to go, though. Maybe we can talk some other time.”
“Don’t you think…”
“Catch you later,” I said quickly, already turning away.
The things Caspain Johnson put me through and the thoughts he dragged me into weren’t funny anymore.
~
“Get us steak and salmon with a cocktail,” Caspain told the waiter as we were seated at DeHeart Locks. He barely glanced at the menu, never asking what I wanted.
“You always get confused by menus,” he said lightly. “Trust me.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the waiter returned almost immediately, setting our plates down.
“Please let me know if you need anything else,” he said politely, gesturing to the small service button near my side of the table.
“That won't be necessary,” Caspain replied, dismissing him without looking up.
We ate in silence for a moment.
“Elo,” he said suddenly, lifting his gaze to mine, “you do know I’m the reason you get to eat like this, right? And do you…”
“Wow. Nice reminder,” I cut in, pushing my chair back. “You can enjoy both meals yourself.”
I grabbed my handbag and walked away before he could respond, the restaurant’s plush corridors blurring as I made my way to the ladies’ room. The moment I shut the door behind me, the sob I’d been holding back escaped.
Not even five minutes into dinner, and he already made me feel small, erasing all the times I’d supported him, even when it costs me something.
I splashed water on my face, then sank onto the toilet seat. My phone buzzed. Tari. I turned the screen off without reading the message.
I stared at my freshly polished nails, biting one in frustration, hoping the tiny sting would take the edge off. It was the safest substitute I had, and I clung to it, the thought of darker relief lingering in the back of my mind. Still, one thought kept circling: I had never once seen Caspain raise his voice at Frank, never seen him belittle him. And that hurt more than I wanted to admit.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Get lost, Caspain,” I snapped. You won’t like what happens if I open this door.”
The knock came again.
I yanked the door open… only to freeze.
It was the waiter from earlier. Up close, he didn’t look like a waiter at all. His uniform fit too perfectly, his posture too relaxed. The faint cologne he wore was subtle and expensive, and his blue eyes held an easy confidence that didn't belong to someone fetching plates.
“Ma’am,” he said gently, “the man you arrived with asked me to escort you upstairs.”
“Upstairs? Why?” I asked warily.
“I'm afraid I can't say more,” he replied with a small smile. “Shall we?”
I frowned. “He wouldn’t know if you told me. It’s fine, you can say.”
“Interesting,” he said, amused. “But no.” You’re quite inquisitive.”
I found myself comparing his smile to Caspain’s. I had always thought Caspain had the sweetest smile, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I blinked. “And how did you know that?”
He paused mid-stairs, turned, and met my eyes. “I just do.”
We continued upward in silence before he spoke again.
“I hope you enjoy it. His surprise for you. I made sure everything suited your taste.
My stomach tightened. “You did?”
“Yes,” he said easily. “Happy now that I gave something away?”
His energy was friendly, with sparks I couldn’t explain. I didn’t want to ruin the moment over what Caspain had.
I hesitated. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“You will,” he said. “Trust me.”
We stopped in front of a massive door. Bold letters were carved into it:
DARE IF YOU TRUST
My fingers curled into my palm as unease crept up my spine.
“You may go in now,” he said, tapping the name tag on his chest. “Damien. But you can call me Dammy
“Elowen,” I replied. “Elo.”
He smiled once, stepped aside, and gestured toward the door.
And just like that, he was gone.
I wasn’t sure whether the tension in my chest came from Caspain’s cruelty earlier… or from the strange calm Damien carried with him. Either way, turning back didn't feel like an option.
- Writer
