Page 27 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

It’s only the right ones that want to be together all the time. Want to see you every day. “I’m—”

“I am unable to do the third date ritual,” Gordon blurts.

“Ritual? Third date—oh!” My face turns as red as the firetruck. “Oh. Oh, that’s an optional thing.”

“It is? I was told that you—younger people want that.”

I put my hand on my hip and purse my lips. Tita Carla would be proud of the sass I’m throwing. “Young people? You’re not that much older than me, buddy, and don’t act like the twenty-somethings started that. That’s been around since the nineties. Maybe earlier.”

It’s Gordon’s turn to blush, and he backs away, shoulders hunching down like he wants to make himself smaller. “There are people who know what they’re doing in this town. I don’t go on dates.”

“This is like the pet thing. You don’t have a pet until you do. No one dates until they do. But, look, if you’re not into me, I am okay with that. I just want to know,” I say with my best comforting smile. I actually wouldn’t be okay with that. Not anytime soon. Gordon is odd, but there’s a genuine sweetness and gentleness under his silence that is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met.

And you don’t know the right one—until you meet him.

“I am into you.” Gordon closes his eyes. “I don’t know why you are into me. If you are.”

“Oh, I am.”

“You are?” Gordon’s voice is soft and shocked, and way too adorable.

“A lot. But I’m not in any kind of rush. There’s no third date expectation on my end.”

The relief on his face mildly concerns me. I know what a horrible childhood he had. I know he’s not touchy-feely. Love-starved might be the perfect word for him, but at the same time, love-starved doesn’t mean that people didn’t hurt him. Physically. Or worse. My chest crunches up inside, imagination working over time. “If you don’t like being touched or you don’t like... Well, you should know I’d never hurt you. Guys can set boundaries just as much as women. All equal and respectful of your bodily autonomy and preferences. You’d be safe with me.”

I’d be safe with her. Andrea doesn’t realize my kind have hunted hers, doesn’t see me for the monster I am. Doesn’t know that I’d love to hold her tight and experience softness and warmth for the first time with her, but I’m terrified of injuring her.

My fear is of hurting her. I’m smart enough to realize it’s been misunderstood, and she thinks that I fear her.

She is so little, and so frail compared to trolls, and yet she offers to keep me safe.

The stone fortress I keep around my heart shatters. “I know I am safe with you. You will be safe with me, too. I promise you,” I whisper.

“Oh, Gordon... Gordon, you don’t get how sweet you are. You’re either the best actor—”

“I cannot act. They do not allow me to do the school presentations about fire safety because I cannot complete the role-playing convincingly,” I am quick to reassure.

Andrea giggles. “Then you’re not acting. So you really are this perfect.”

“Perfect?” I bark the word, horrified. “Oh, no. Please don’t think that. That’s a mistake.”

“You don’t get it. You can be perfect for someone without actually being perfect at all.”

Humans are so confusing. Dating and mates...liking someone... It’s all confusing. The rules that Sunderland mentioned aren’t even rules; they’re options. “I’m not perfect for you,” is all I can say, knowing it’s true and feeling that I have to at least try to warn her.

“Only I get to decide that.” Andrea grins. The grin shrinks. “Well. Um. Would you... Like to get together again sometime?”

I would like to get together every night. I feel better near her. I want to sit and listen to her play for hours, and learn how to blend spices to make the food that she craves, and watch her scold Chopin when he hops on the table after dinner.

“Yes, please.”

She waits.

I’m probably supposed to do something.

“Go out?” I croak, throat suddenly drying out. I have no idea where.

“Sure. Saturday?” Andrea offers.