Page 24 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

“I have to go. I... I don’t need the book. I don’t have an instrument,” Gordon blurts, stepping over the piano bench the way I’d step over a twig on the ground.

“Oh, let me show you some piano practice apps. A lot of my students don’t have pianos, either, but this is good practice for the real thing. Plus, you could always come over and practice here if you want,” I offer.

Gordon looks like I tried to light him on fire. Panicked. Some kind of shocked. “Are you okay?”

“I... I have to go. I’m sorry, I stayed too long. The food was amazing. The music was amazing. Thank you.” Gordon looks at me, opens his mouth, then shuts it with a snap. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you sick? You ate a lot of pandesal.” I move towards him, concerned.

“I’m not sick. You’re a good cook. Pandesal is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. It’s just that I—”

The conversation is cut short by a persistent beeping, and Gordon actually looks relieved. “There’s a fire call. Gotta go,” he cries, and bolts.

I’m left standing there, with Chopin, now awake, pacing between me and the door. “What the actual hell?” I mutter, feeling deflated.

“Mrow?” Chopin asks.

“I know, right?” I walk back to the table and collect the dishes we left behind. “This was the nicest date. Very chill. Very...” I look at the cat and sigh. I’m talking to a cat, and I did something wrong that scared Gordon off. Or maybe he has a weird sixth sense about when fire calls are about to come in? Maybe he didn’t want to tell me has psychic powers.

“Oh, God. I’m so pathetic,” I whisper. Psychic premonitions? Sixth sense stuff? Next I’ll believe that he turns into a werewolf or something and he had to go before the full moon got him. We still didn’t exchange numbers. We just keep making plans.

But we didn’t this time. So.

It’s over.

Chapter Six: A Helping Paw

“Lady called. Cat up a tree. Sound familiar?” Sunderland stands next to me and glares.

“I have to go do the safety inspection for the pizza place and Fresh Market,” I say, hastily grabbing my clipboard and tablet. “And the church needs a maximum occupancy update because of the addition.”

Sunderland pulls the tablet from my hands with icy silence.

The message is clear. I have to go. And I already know who the cat belongs to. “I don’t want to go,” I admit, and that’s enough to shock Sunderland into losing his frosty anger.

“Why?”

“Because I like her and I don’t want to.” There. That’s simple. That’s easy to understand. He should let me alone now.

Instead, he sits. Which means I have to sit back down, too.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think we’re right for each other.”

“Why not?”

“None of your business. Sir.”

“Don’t you do that, Gordon. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it mattered. You’re in your head in a different way. That’s something I watch out for.”

“My head is fine.” Too big. Too green. Too full of thick, ugly tusks that would gouge Andrea’s soft cheeks if I ever kissed her.

Last night, I almost kissed her. I even think she wanted me to. Which is stupid, because she doesn’t know what I really am.

“She break things off?”

“No.”