She nodded. “It’s what I do. I’ve turned my bad habits into a living. I’m a dealer of antiquities and ephemera. Mostly for high-end designers and the occasional private client. But some of the things I’ve found”—she glanced around the room again—“I just couldn’t part with.”
Dinner was delicious—chicken with feta and olives, salad, fresh bread.
“I went with something simple,” Calliope said, almost apologetically. “Zander asked me to give you a real Greek experience, but he wasn’t sure what you liked. Next time we’ll know better.” She smiled, but I was stuck on next time. As in, I’ll be coming here again. With Zander. He’d barely joined in the dinner conversation and I was afraid to look at him—what if he didn’t want me to come back? But when I glanced over, he winked and my pulse raced.
Calliope served dessert and I told her about my summer in Kansas with my aunt; she told me about the inlaid bowl she’d gotten from a dig in Tunisia. Zander still said almost nothing. A strange and unsettling idea—subtle but insidious—crept in that maybe he hadn’t really wanted me here, but needed me. As cover. My mom would love it if I brought a nice Greek girl like you home. Is that what I was? A stand-in date to keep his mother happy? Calliope was clearly attached to her son and not afraid to confront. Not stupid either. If even a fraction of the rumors about Zander were true, she had to know. I could definitely see her interrogating Zander more than he cared for.
I was glad when it was time to say good night. Talking to Calliope had been interesting, but grew less so the more I thought about Zander’s detachment. I stood by the car while he spoke to his mom for an extra minute, wondering how to ask why he’d brought me here without sounding totally insecure.
I didn’t have to.
I heard the front door close and turned to find him there, right behind me. So close that I could see faint stubble on the soft olive skin of his jaw. Wordlessly, he leaned forward, bracing his arms on the roof of the car, pinning me in, and kissed me.
My head spun, the word “swoon” coming to mind. A helplessly outdated word that was exactly how I felt. There was no connection between thought and feeling, just a crazy, light-headed, weak-limbed dizziness that left me breathless even when he stepped back, a tentative half smile on those full lips that had just been on mine.
We didn’t speak. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, feeling something I’d never quite felt before. Something not me. Attraction almost beyond my control.
Had it been this way with Lucas and Jack and I’d forgotten? I didn’t think so. There was something too penetrating about Zander, the way he looked at me too deep. And I was helpless to cover myself, my feelings embarrassingly naked.
I looked down, saw my hands trembling slightly.
He leaned close and for a heart-stopping second I couldn’t breathe, sure he was going to kiss me again, but he reached past, pulling firmly on the car handle, the door bumping me lightly on the butt.
“Get in,” he said softly.
In the silence of the car, in the seconds before he joined me, I tried to slow my heartbeat. I had no idea what to say to him.
He slid into the driver’s side, started up the car, air blasting from the vents on high, where we’d left it when we parked. Zander lowered it to a soft whisper and rubbed his hands together before looking over expectantly, still with the slight smile.
“I have no idea what to say to you,” I told him.
His smile deepened. I saw a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Tell me how you feel.”
I looked down, mumbling, “I think that’s obvious.”
“I want to hear it.”
Of course you do. His arrogance was less charming when I was so obviously being toyed with. “I feel confused, Zander,” I said, my voice steadier than I’d expected. “You taunt me at the mall and school, then invite me to meet your mother but completely check out of the conversation. Then you come out here and kiss me like …” I stopped for a second, caught up in the dizzying memory of it.
“Like we’re lovers?”
My face turned bright pink—who on earth says “lovers”? “Like we’re more than strangers,” I said deliberately.
“It’s almost as if I like you or something, huh?”
I refused to play along. “Normal people don’t act like that, Zander.”
“I’m not normal.”
“No shit.”
He sighed, backed the car out, and started to drive.
I stared out the window in stony silence, unwilling to budge until he did. The last thing I needed was some mind-gaming pseudoboyfriend. Still, my heart froze at the idea of telling him to eff-off.
We drove the five or so miles to my apartment in silence, large and awkward despite the classical music that played and the weightless drift of flurries brushing gently across the windows.
Zander pulled up in front of my building and I reached for the door handle, ready to spring out without even a thank-you, my infuriation having grown to a live and pulsing thing.
“Cassie …”
I paused, hand still on the door, face averted.
“Look at me, please.”
I did. Gritting my teeth.
“Listen.” His voice was soft. Cajoling. “I know I didn’t handle tonight very well.” He looked down hesitantly and I tried to ignore my cynical side calling him out for the calculated move. “The truth is, I really do like you and it’s been a while since I’ve actually said that to anyone.”
I scoffed. “Zander, you don’t even know me.”
He met my eyes. “You don’t know me either and you like me, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer and he didn’t make me.
“Sometimes,” he said, “attraction is just that. A gut feeling that builds into something more. I know enough about you, Cassie, to see the ‘more’ that could be there. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you home. That was probably a mistake, having you meet my mom before we knew each other better. But you had a good time, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said grudgingly.
“And maybe I should have butted into the conversation more, but you and my mom seemed to be hitting it off. I thought you liked talking to her.”
“I did,” I said, starting to feel like a jerk.
“And I definitely shouldn’t have kissed you like that,” he said, flashing his devilish smile. “But I just couldn’t help it.”