A Dance With Hades

Chapter 4 | Lunch Date

NYX MANSON

CAMERON AND I walk past Carol, and she scowls at me. I shoot a petty glare her way before focusing on where I’m walking. We quietly walk out of the building, and I wave goodbye to the security guards who nod in response.

The sun shines down on us, and I smile. It feels good on my skin, but I can’t say the same for my hair, though. My head feels so itchy because of how the intense sun is burning my scalp.

But this afro is still beautiful, baby.

“Where do you want to go for lunch, sweetheart?” Cameron asks, his voice carrying a slight accent, but I can’t tell where it’s from.

“I thought you already thought of that,” I say with a small shrug of my shoulders.

He slowly shakes his head and smiles at me. “Your father said you’re a picky eater, so I didn’t want to choose the wrong place,” he explains with a weird look on his face.

“We can eat anywhere,” I answer with another shrug, and he sighs before nodding.

We cross the street with me following him because I don’t know where he's leading me to. I follow him to a clean, dark blue Jaguar F-Type Coupe. I pout, impressed by his choice of vehicle.

Before I can even bring my hand up to open the door for myself, Cameron opens it for me. “Thank you,” I whisper, and he nods before I climb into his car.

Maybe I judged him too quickly.

He climbs into the car on the driver’s side, immediately starts the engine, and drives onto the main road. We sit in a comfortable silence for a bit of the drive, my eyes mostly focused on the passing scenery.

“Where are you from?” I ask, still thinking about his slight accent.

He smiles. “Germany, honigbienchen,” he responds, and I lift a brow. “It means little honey bee,” he explains, and I lower my brow, nodding. “So where did you go to high school?” Cameron asks.

I turn in my seat a bit so I can see more of his face. “Charleston South Prep,” I reply, and all the horrible memories of that hell hole come rushing back.

He nods. “I used to go to Maverick High before I moved back to Germany for a few years,” he says. “How old are you?” He throws another question at me.

I lift a brow. “I thought my father would've mentioned that little detail, Cameron,” I laugh a bit, and he shakes his head. “Hm, how old are you?” I ask instead of answering his question.

“Turning twenty-five soon, süße,” he answers. I nod with a smile. “And that word means sweetie,” he adds.

The car stops outside Patterson’s after a short drive, and I smile.

I love eating here, so there’s a little brownie point for Cameron. We climb out of the car at the same time and make our way inside the restaurant.

“Nyx!” The beautiful hostess, Martha, cheers when she sees me. I smile widely and wave as we approach her. “How have you been?” She asks in her usual peppy tone.