Chapter 21 Garrett
Garrett
I didn’t know why the hell I was smiling like a lunatic on my way back to the gym.
Or why there was this stupid warmth sitting low in my gut, spreading like I’d swallowed something hot and wrong. I told myself it was gas. Just my body being annoying. Maybe I was the one getting stomach cramps now.
That had to be it.
It definitely wasn’t butterflies. I didn’t do butterflies. I didn’t do emotions. And whatever pressure lingered in my chest had nothing to do with Aslan saying he’d been sick for days—not avoiding me. Nothing to do with the surprise in his eyes when I’d told him I’d been looking for him.
I grabbed a quick bite. The feeling didn’t go away.
I drove to the coffee shop. Still there.
Maybe caffeine would fix it.
Instead, my head replayed his face—first guarded, then confused, then something softer I hadn’t earned. The disappointment I’d seen at first had twisted my stomach. And the smile after… that had done something worse.
Seeing him smile had felt just as intense as seeing him miserable.
That wasn’t normal...
I needed distance. I needed to stay away. I needed to stay safe. I needed to—
“Two hot cocoas.”
The words were already out of my mouth.
I froze.
What?
When the hell had I ever ordered hot cocoa? I didn’t even like hot cocoa. And two?
The answer hit me like a frisbee to the face.
Aslan liked cocoa.
Of course he did. Sweet, comforting, warm. And he was sick. Or had been. That was what he’d said.
Fine.
This was strategic.
I couldn’t properly mess with him if he wasn’t at full strength. Couldn’t push him, provoke him, break him down the right way. He needed to recover first. Be soothed. Stabilized.
Groomed.
Hot cocoa was just a weapon. A setup. A calculated move.
That made sense.
Perfect sense.
Or maybe… I was caring. Being nice—
Nope. Stop.
I took the drinks and walked out before my brain could betray me further. I drove back to the academy, skipped my dorm entirely, and didn’t slow down until I reached the side of the library, pausing by one of the tall windows with the cups burning my hands through the cardboard sleeves.
I rehearsed.
Hey, I was downtown and grabbed you a cocoa.
Yeah, right… Not a chance.
Peace offering, Narnia?
Absolutely not. I didn’t want peace. I wanted him gone.
I got a few cocoas and have an extra if you want it.
Better. Detached. Casual. Not about him.
I was just about to awkwardly execute my plan when I saw someone enter through the front doors.
Aitor.
I froze.
What the hell was he doing here?
I stayed where I was, half-hidden, watching through the glass as Aitor leaned over the counter. Aslan looked up.
And smiled.
Not polite. Not reflexive.
A real smile.
For him.
Something sharp twisted in my chest as Aitor pulled something from his pocket—a card, maybe. A pass. He handed it to Aslan, and they spoke quietly, heads close. Aslan laughed under his breath, eyes bright, completely different from the version of him I’d gotten all week.
Then Aitor nodded, said something that looked a lot like see you later, and tapped Aslan’s arm on the way out.
Touched him.
That did it.
Heat rushed through me, fast and violent. I turned away before I could think better of it, jaw tight, breathing hard. I walked straight past the nearest trash bin and dumped both cups inside without slowing down.
Cocoas sloshed. Steam vanished.
Whatever the hell that had been—whatever almost happened—it was over.
I stormed away from the library, all warmth gone, all restraint burned clean through.
It didn’t take long to figure out what Aitor had given the cub.
A recital pass.
Nothing special. I had one. We all did. Aitor wasn’t stingy with access—he was stingy with attention. And lately he’d been wasting a suspicious amount of that on Aslan.
Aitor had always had a thing for charity cases. He liked strays. He liked “projects.” Everyone knew that.
It was almost… cute.
Almost.
It stopped being cute the moment my lion started smiling at him a little too much.
I’d always supported Aitor’s musical genius. I never missed his violin recitals. I’d sat through more sonatas than I could count with the straight face of a man pretending classical music didn’t make him want to commit murder.
But tonight? Tonight I planned on being early. Extra early... Just so I could be sitting there when the lion walked in and give him the proper murderous glare that reminded him exactly where he belonged.
The hall filled fast as I took my seat with Evan beside me, legs spread, jaw tight, waiting.
Then he appeared.
Aslan walked in wearing what was probably his nicest outfit—clean, fitted, trying too hard not to look like he was trying. He looked… good. Goddamn good. The kind of good that made my blood feel hot and wrong.
And when he approached, I caught the scent of coconut. Of course he smelled like that—sweet and edible.
He slowed like he was going to sit right there.
In my row.
In the same row as me.
Did our little chat earlier give him the impression we were equals now? Or did he think Aitor’s invitation came with VIP privileges?
What a fool.
He glanced at me, tentative spark in those golden haunting eyes, and I felt a shiver run down my spine so sharp it almost made me cough. Then he smiled—small, hesitant—and the glare I was forcing on my face threatened to crack.
For a terrifying second, it almost turned into a smile of my own.
Thankfully, Evan—oblivious as a damn golden retriever—stood up at the perfect moment and blocked his path.
“Going somewhere, Ass-land?” he drawled, loud enough for the people nearby to turn.
Aslan stopped, confused. Then he pulled out his pass, holding it up. “I was invited, Evan.”
Evan laughed in his face. “Yeah, not to our row you weren’t, idiot.” He jerked his head toward the back. “Move.”
Aslan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He just looked past Evan—straight at me… For half a second, it felt like he was waiting.
For what, I didn’t know.
For me to stop it? Defend him?
My expression hardened before I could do just that. “You heard him, lion,” I said flatly. “To the back, you go.”
The confusion in his eyes shifted into something worse—disappointment—and it punched deeper than I expected, sharp enough to make my ribs ache.
Aslan didn’t say anything. He just nodded once, like he’d been stupid enough to hope. Then he turned and walked away toward the back rows, alone.
The hall had filled up by the time the recital began. Aitor stepped onto stage, violin in hand, the room settling into silence.
I tried to focus. Tried to be normal. Tried to listen, but at some point, I glanced back. Aslan was sitting at the very back row by himself, shoulders straight, hands folded in his lap, face calm like he hadn’t been humiliated two minutes ago.
My chest ached…. And lately it had been doing that a lot, which was starting to make me wonder if I’d developed a chronic condition from all this pathetic bullshit.
It didn’t matter, because the next time I looked back, he was gone.
I took a deep breath, and inexplicably, I went after him.
Again.