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Back VICTOR Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Cover
  2. PART I
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. PART II
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. PART III
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. PART IV
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. PART V
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. PART VI
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. ALSO BY THEODORA TAYLOR
  44. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ready to teach her a lesson.

8

DAWN

Yes! Operation Good As New was working! I just might get through this anniversary without losing my mind.

I peeked across the table at Victor. He still looked so unbelievably handsome. It was hard to look at him directly without missing a few breaths. He wore one of those looks that were so popular these days, a short-sleeved black collared shirt with a dove-gray button-up vest. His tattoo sleeve made the outfit especially on-trend. Replace the ruthlessly sculpted hair with a man bun, and he’d be a shoo-in for the cover of Hipster Hottie magazine.

I guessed that this was as close as a guy like Victor got to a springtime look. But it was still sinister as hell. Which was why I could barely believe my plan was working.

When I’d come up with the plan to simply treat Victor like he was still the boy I knew in Japan as we were taking that death march out of the Young Souls daycare, I wasn’t sure it would work.

He’d been so cold when he showed up out of the blue. So bent on punishment, I wasn’t sure he’d let me joke my way into making us dinner. And don’t even get me started on him throwing away my expensive bottle of wine. I wouldn’t call alcohol a crutch exactly. But I’d been depending on it to get me through dinner with my openly hostile guest.

Luckily, Victor had finally relaxed, and now here we were, eating dinner across from each other, perfectly cozy.

Yes, sure, I was doing most of the talking. And, okay, he was barely responding when I asked him questions. So dinner conversation wasn’t exactly scintillating.

“How do you like living in the States?” I asked him between bites of bulgogi.

“Fine.”

“Are Han and Phantom over here with you, too?”

“Sometimes.”

“Where are you living in New York? The state or the city?”

Long pause as if I’d asked him a complicated math question. “The city,” he finally replied.

Seriously, it was like pulling teeth. But I took another glug of water that I wished was wine and kept on trying. “Cool, how do you like living there?”

“Same. Tokyo. Hong Kong.”

Wow, he’d gotten good at answering with just a minimum of signs. It made me want to ask him more complicated questions just to see if he could keep it going.

But I told myself to be grateful. At this point, I was pathetically happy that he was conversing with me and even sharing a meal. I knew eating in front of other people was a whole thing for him.