Chapter 124

"Not at all. I was just passing by."

"Your house isn’t in this direction," he pointed out.

"I like to walk."

"And to get lost too."

I hissed at his remark.

Dante was so indifferent.

"What happened was…"

"Something you should take as a lesson instead of following me," he interrupted recklessly.

"I’m not following you," I exclaimed, searching for plausible excuses to continue. "I just… I just want to talk to you."

Dante analyzed me as if I were some kind of freak.

"Aren’t you tired?"

"Of what?"

"Getting yourself into trouble."

"Wanting to talk to you isn’t a problem," I defended myself.

"Insisting on making it happen is."

I wrinkled my nose, crossing my arms.

I didn’t inhale deeply before continuing the conversation because his scent was too good—utterly intoxicating. I couldn’t sniff him like a dog; otherwise, he’d think I was weirder than he already did.

"I never insisted."

"You just happen to come to the park at the same times as me and leave at the same time, not to mention asking the town gossips about who I am, what I eat, where I sleep, and how I breathe."

"Oh…"

He knew.

Shame overwhelmed me instantly. I had been caught.

"I know how you breathe," I argued, but it came out idiotic.

Dante didn’t reply.

But I saw a faint smile tugging at his lips.

My stomach churned impossibly, but I forced myself to ignore the feeling.

"Are they your friends?" I asked cautiously, calculations forming in my mind. Four boys…

Faulkner looked at me with a hint of confusion on his brow.

"Depends on what you consider friends."

"Are they the boys you saved from the kidnapping?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it. I hated being intrusive, but my curiosity begged for an answer. Clearly, Dante wasn’t comfortable. His features tightened, though he maintained his composure.

"What do you know about this so-called kidnapping?"

"Only what the rumors say."

He inhaled, and his forehead furrowed. Anger silently spread across his face.

"They’re wrong. It wasn’t a kidnapping."

"Then what was it?"

"It was a dinner."

What?

My thirteen-year-old self—well, thirteen and five months—didn’t know how to interpret that. Dante didn’t elaborate, though, as he moved toward the court.

He glanced back, his dark, brooding eyes saying things I couldn’t decipher, yet somehow my body reacted.

Even so, I followed him, despite the metaphorical red light flashing on his back, urging me to head home.

"I’m leaving," he declared to the four boys, who were now tossing an American football among themselves.

All their attention shifted to Dante, but it didn’t take long for them to spot me, shrinking behind him, waiting—friend, or whatever else I was.

Even I was surprised.

He had decided to stay with me.

"Who’s this?" one of them asked, his deep voice contrasting with his slim frame.

"Your girlfriend?" Another boy looked at Dante.

"Come on, Faulkner. I took you seriously when you said you loved me. Now you’re cheating on me?" Another laughed and closed the distance between us. "She’s cute. What’s your name, princess?"

I swallowed hard, clutching my chest.

"Emilia. Emilia Gray," I murmured shyly, still intimidated by the colossal height of the boy. He could make a great athlete.

"Emilia Emilia Gray? Twice? That’s weird. Did your parents choke while writing your name?" I opened my mouth to retort, but the boy didn’t let me. "I’m Asher Hawthorn, princess. Just call me Asher. Or Asher Asher. Prince of your dreams. Or the villain. Maybe a vampire. Do you like tails? I’m not sure what kind of fantasy you have. Take your pick."

"Hawthorn, stop being an idiot, for God’s sake. She’s probably twelve!" yelled another, clearly the most battered from the fight. His narrowed eyes, dark hair, and pale skin suggested Asian heritage.

"Or just call me Hawthorn, though not everyone can pronounce it right," he concluded with a sarcastic smile.

"I’m thirteen. Almost fourteen."

"See? She’s twelve."

"No, I…"

"You and Faulkner are dating, huh?" I shook my head, slightly panicked and embarrassed.

"If I were you, I’d run. He doesn’t like people."

Asher glared at his irritated friend.

"Cole, don’t intimidate Emilia."

"I’m not feeling intimidated."

"Of course not," Cole said flatly. "You’re stupid."

"And adorable, dude. Have you even looked at her?"

Asher stepped closer, intending to touch me. But Dante pushed his friend back with a single command that stopped him:

"Don’t you dare touch her."

Hawthorn turned with a grin, teasing Dante.

"I thought we shared."

Dante moved so quickly I barely noticed him press his hands over my ears and turn to address the boys, who stopped and listened intently to whatever he was saying.

I was so stunned I barely tried to overhear the conversation. All I felt was the heat radiating from Faulkner’s body and my eyes darting between the four boys before me. Quiet, their gazes fixed on Dante behind me.

When he released my ears, the sharp cluck of a tongue from one of his friends was all that remained of the exchange.

"What happened? What did you say?" I asked.

"Nothing," he declared firmly. "Jaxon, watch Vance!"

The other boy, who had also been fighting, nodded and turned his head toward the only one who had stayed quiet.

It seemed Vance was leaning against the wall with a notebook and pen. If I squinted, I could see it was a crossword puzzle book.

He was the only one who hadn’t looked at me, let alone cared about the conversation.

"Campbell isn’t a kid," Jaxon complained, wiping his forehead with his shirt.

"That’s exactly why I’m asking you to keep an eye on him."

Dante grabbed something from his seemingly empty backpack and took my hand, pulling me away from the group.

It was scorching hot. It felt like my bones might fry.

"Aren’t you going to the orphanage?"

He gave me a sideways glance.

"Didn’t you say you came here to talk? That’s what we’re going to do."

I was sure my eyes lit up.

"Actually, I don’t know what exactly to talk about. I didn’t expect to succeed today," I confessed.

"You’re so damn weird," he stated, but I was too happy to be offended.

"I have a homework assignment. You could help me."

Dante’s forehead creased.

"What’s the assignment?"

"Shakespeare. I have to read a story and summarize it. Do you know who he is?"

"I know, but I’ve never read him."

I took a few steps forward, trying to match his pace.

"Do you want to read with me?"

Dante hesitated to answer.

"I don’t know how to read or write. Even if I wanted to, it would just be indecipherable drawings to me."

I was surprised for a moment but quickly masked my unease.

He didn’t go to school. Rumors swirled about his absence from education, but nothing was confirmed beyond the fact that he apparently didn’t want to. His other friends, especially Jaxon and Cole, went to the same school as me.

"I can teach you." Faulkner glanced at me sideways. "I’m not sure how, but we can use Shakespeare. That way, I do my homework, and you learn."

Dante huffed through his nose.

"You stalk someone for months, and the first chance you get, you invite them to read Shakespeare?"

I couldn’t hold back a silly smile.

"I’m very smart, aren’t I?"

I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, and a strange sound escaped him.

Dante wanted to laugh.

He laughed. It felt like confirmation of the absurdity of it all.

That made me happy. I felt like good things were finally coming my way.