Page 66 of Tears of Glass

“You want to be my girlfriend?” he asks once my furious blush has calmed down.

It’s so childish but I smirk. “Maybe.”

“Is that the title you want?”

“I don’t know. Three weeks ago, you broke my heart and made me break the best sculpture I’ve ever made.”

“Tell me about it. That was a bitch to pick up.”

“Eli! That’s not funny.”

“Girlfriend.” He holds the glass out again and I lean across and place mine against his and then clink glasses.

“If you wish.”

“I do.”

“So, work? I guess you’ll be at work while I’m hanging around in lectures and class. Won’t that be weird for you, being involved with someone on such a different path?”

He shrugs, but his face smooths as he contemplates my question. “I think knowing you are on a different path and seeing how exciting that is will make going to work just that little bit easier.”

“Why don’t you quit, follow your dream?” This isn’t the first time I’ve said this. “You don’t have to protect anyone anymore. Not me, not Tabitha. You said yourself she’s doing her own thing.”

He hesitates. “Maybe.”

“What’s holding you back? Did you see how everyone reacted to your work at the ball? It wasn’t all my work they were interested in.”

A frown creases between his eyebrows and he chews on the side of his mouth.

What’s holding him back? What’s he trying to protect now? Or... “You’re scared?” I whisper.

His eyes hold mine. “I was brought up to not believe in things like dreams.”

“Why the fuck isn’t Peter getting all the heat? Why is it you?” God, I hate the thought of him living his life with this sorrowful emptiness. It makes me want to grab him and love him and never let him go. To fill him with the love he deserves, the love he’s been starved of.

I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “I’m going to make you dream, if it’s the last thing I do.”

We both look up with a start as the waiter brings us steaming bowls of what looks like stew topped with fresh herbs and a big bowl of skinny fries speckled with... I peer closer. “Is that garlic?” The waiter pushes a bowl in front of me and I take another sip of the nuclear wine.

A smile spreads across Elijah’s face. “Yep, it’s just as well we are only kissing each other tonight.”

I laugh and nod. “Jeez, I’m hungry.”

“You look like the picture of a starving artist at the moment.”

“I knew you were looking earlier.”

“I care about you, and I want you to be well.”

I’m going to retort that maybe he should have filled me in with what was happening three weeks ago, but what’s the point?

“You can feed me up whenever you like.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

I break eye contact. The food smells fricking amazing and I’m going to dive straight in. “Faith.”