Page 32 of Eternal Devotion

The waiter arrived with our food, so we bookmarked the conversation.

Instead of revisiting it when we were alone, Mordecai took us elsewhere. “Tell me about your friends? What do they do for a living? How did you meet? Poet’s appearance is so contrary to his temperament, don’t you think? At least from what I saw.”

“It is.”

I shared enthusiastically, thrilled to invite Mordecai into my circle, not realizing until much too late that his question was meant as a distraction.

Too engrossed in my meal, chatting about Mars and Ziggy and Poet and their vastly different personalities, it took me a while to notice that Mordecai wasn’t eating his meal so much as cutting it into tiny pieces and moving it around his plate. He sat tall, his posture impeccable, manners precise, and his attention rapt. He asked involved questions and responded with interest.

Mordecai was the perfect date. Engrossed in my every word.

But he wasn’t eating.

Frowning, I motioned to his plate. “Is your dinner okay?”

“Oh, yes. It’s wonderful. Isn’t it wonderful?” He made a show of putting a morsel of severely undercooked steak into his mouth and chewing it to excess.

We shared a smile, but the minute I returned my attention to my meal—spying surreptitiously from under my lashes—he used a napkin to wipe his mouth. I strongly suspected he disposed of the masticated meat.

After that, Mordecai ate several forkfuls of food, making a show of it, ensuring I saw. Like the gentleman he was, he dabbed his mouth between each bite. I wanted to believe he was eating because the alternative was too bizarre. In the end, I refused to draw attention to it. What would I say? I didn’t want to throw a wrench in our evening. It was easier to pretend I didn’t notice.

If Mordecai had some sort of eating disorder, a first date might not be the time for a discussion.

By the end of dinner, more than half the food on his plate vanished, so too did his wine—although I never saw him take a single sip. He allowed me to refill the glass, but it remained untouched.

We turned down dessert, and Mordecai insisted on paying. He used cash and left a generous tip, reminding me of his earlier comment about coming from a wealthy family.

We wandered into the cool night, neither of us rushing. Our shoulders brushed as we walked side by side, enough that it felt meaningful. Mordecai tilted his head and studied the sky. October had her claws in us, and heavy clouds hung low over the city.

“No moon tonight,” he said, sounding almost forlorn.

“It’s hiding. I think it’s supposed to rain.”

Mordecai hummed.

Once we were snug in the Jeep, I cranked the heat. The time on the dash read quarter to ten. I didn’t know if Mordecai expected me to take him home, but I wasn’t ready for the date to end. Owen Sound didn’t have much in the way of nightlife, so I was at a loss for suggestions.

Instead of driving, I blurted, “Museums. We have a few museums that could be featured in a game. Heritage sites. There’s Moreston Village, too. I could envision it being overtaken by goblins or something. Harrison Park might be swarming with Naga or Murlock.” I chuckled. “Those bastards always crawl out of the water and cause trouble.”

“Oh!” I spun to face him. “The Sherman tank. It would make a cool boss. An engineering monstrosity. Poet would have a blast building its stats.”

I racked my brain, squinting at a mental map of the city, and snapped my fingers. “Jubilee Bridge would be a good boss location too. We could fight a troll that lives underneath, like in the fairy tale. He might have rabies or undead baby goat mobs surrounding him.

“There’s an Underground Railroad thing, but it’s not underground or a railroad, per se. It’s a terminal linked with a lot of the town’s Black history, and… Well, there’s a driving tour. We could create something around that. Or… I don’t know. I’m rambling.”

The streetlights didn’t stretch far enough to highlight Mordecai’s face. Still, I felt the intensity of his gaze, and I had the horrible sensation that he thought my ideas were stupid.

“You weren’t serious about making that module, were you? I’m embarrassing myself, aren’t I?”

I caught the barest reflection of an eyetooth. A smile. “I was dead serious. I would love to explore your ideas.”

“Really? I didn’t think you would be interested in gaming.”

“I’m interested in you, Ensley.”

My heart skipped a beat. “I’m interested in you, too.”

I couldn’t properly gauge his expression or know if it was safe to make a move. I desperately wanted to lean in and kiss him but feared overstepping.