Rowena
Adrian and I leaned closely over the candlelit table, our hands clasped together. His thumb stroked back and forth over my knuckles, each small touch sending a shiver through me.
“You really do look gorgeous,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “Even prettier than the homecoming dance.”
I smiled slightly and bit my lip. After a lifetime of being insulted on my looks, of being called a nerd and a loser, it felt nice to be complimented.
“Thank you,” I said. “That’s very kind of you.”
“You know…” Adrian leaned back in his chair and regarded me from across the table. Between us sat two mostly-finished plates of food and some drinks, as well as a flickering candle. “I’m really glad you became a combat manager.”
I raised an eyebro
