Objective (Bloodlines #2)(10)

“Furyew.” I muster a smile as I butcher my speech. She looks up from her paperwork and shakes her head at me disdainfully. “Take it.” I try again, wiggling the phone at her. She relents and snatches the phone from me.

“Hello?” She speaks while keeping her eyes on me. I watch the sequence of sounds from her mouth as she okays, yeses and mmhmmms her way through the conversation with Aster, I let my eyes close and tuck my hands under my right cheek. I’m so tired.



After a few phone calls and a week of begging me to go on a date with him I’d finally decided playing hard to get, like Aster suggested, was overrated. Dad wasn't overly thrilled with the idea of Cane, citing that he was a ‘rough boy’ from a crap family, but after five days of begging and nightly hour-long phone calls with Cane that left a permanent smile on my face, he’d relented.

“So tell me something about yourself that I don't know,” he’d asked as he shoved a fork full of ravioli into his mouth. I watched his jaw work as he chewed, mesmerized. How was it even possible to look so good eating? I’d barely even taken in the upscale Italian restaurant he’d taken me to. My eyes seemed to be stuck on him, the way his muscles flexed under his t-shirt as he moved, the way his handsome face transitioned from one look to another. I was surprised I hadn't started drooling yet.

“Well, I was named after a tree. My dad and his brother have this weird thing for plant names... Aster is a flower name, too.” I said. I stabbed my fork into my tortellini and groaned when it hit my tongue. So delicious. He smirked at my groan and winked at me.

“Why’d they pick that name, though?” he asked. I sighed and blew out a breath…here we go.

“It’s kind of depressing, actually,” I muttered. He held my eyes and waited. “It’s known as the mournful tree,” I started. “The tree would be planted by a grave, in front of the house or something, as a warning against people entering a place corrupted by a dead body. Romans would carry branches of a cypress as a sign of respect, and bodies of the respected were placed on cypress branches before being buried. It’s supposed to designate hope, as the tree supposedly points to the heavens. He picked that name because my mother died giving birth to me,” I finished. He’d blinked at me three times.

“That’s heavy. So your ‘mom’ is really your stepmom?” he asked.

“Yeah, my dad married her when I was two, but I don't remember life before her,” I explained.

“I don’t think that name fits you at all,” he blurted. “I’m going to figure out a better name for you.” My lips tipped up and I’d smiled brightly. I always wanted a different name. Mine always seemed so depressing.

“So, Cane, what is it about your life that inspires you?” I asked, deciding to stick with heavy topics.

His head snapped up from his plate and he stared at me for a moment. “Nothing, I guess,” he answered finally.

“Everyone has to be inspired by their life, otherwise what’s the point?” I countered, slightly taken aback that he had nothing to say.

“I like you, you say what you mean,” he beamed at me. “I guess graphic design inspires me. I’d really like to study that. I’m good at art.” He sounded timid, like he didn't want anyone to know.

“So get a degree in graphic design,” I said.

“It’s not that simple, Cy,” he replied sadly.

“Why not?” I pushed.

“That’s not first date material, but let’s leave it at the fact that I don't think any college would take me with my grades, for now.” His tone was slightly clipped so I decided to leave that topic alone for the moment.

“So, what’s the plan for after dinner? Do I get dessert? Because I really love dessert,” I chirped to change the subject.

“My girl likes dessert, huh?” he stated more than questioned. His girl. A thrill coursed through me at his choice of words.

“Your girl?” I questioned, hoping that his answer was everything I wanted it to be.

“Yeah, Cy, my girl,” he said with a level of finality in his voice that I hoped would never go away. Cane Ash just claimed me as his girl. I had never felt anything as amazing as that moment. I stared at his beautiful caramel eyes, breathing a little heavily at the intense look on his face.

“O-Okay,” I stuttered. “Your girl does indeed like dessert,” I answered, trying not to show how thrilled I was to be ‘his’ girl. I’d never been anyone’s girl and the feeling of knowing someone thought of me that way was powerful.

“Dessert it is then, baby girl.” I swear the butterflies that had been in my stomach just fluttered around so fiercely that I thought I might float out of my seat and right to heaven. When we finished eating dinner, Cane paid the bill, grabbed my hand and tugged me out the door. We walked through the park together, still holding hands. It was beautiful out there. The street lamps were on, casting a low glow over the trees and path. Cane’s thumb gently rubbed back and forth over my hand, sending little chills through me intermittently. Just short of the ice cream stand he stopped abruptly, making my steps falter. He tugged my hand, swinging me around to face him. His caramel eyes looked stormy. I liked it. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and waited for whatever it was he was going say. His eyes zeroed in on my mouth before snapping back up to my eyes.