“I agree.”
He shoves his long fingers through his hair, pacing the short length of the room. My belly aches seeing how torn up he is.
He turns around, facing me, swinging his arm in the air wildly. “There are so many things I want to say to you and I can’t. It’s killing me pushing you away, keeping you at a distance, but I have to do this.” He beats his chest with a closed fist. “I’m not doing this to hurt you, or make you angry, or any of the things you might think. I’m trying to protect you more than I am myself. I want to help you, but I’m worried I’m hurting you.”
“You’re not hurting me—”
“Listen,” he begins again, “I’m thirty years old, you are nineteen. The walls of this school are a very strict prison that’s supposed to prevent you and me from ever being together. I let my feelings corrupt my sensibilities, and because of how I feel for you, I need to protect you. You sitting there, telling me you don’t want to talk because it’s your birthday kills me, because I know if I hadn’t been forcing things to remain professional, you would’ve never said that.”
There are several things from that proclamation I should focus on, but instead I say, “You’re thirty now? When was your birthday?”
How do I not know when his birthday is? Why have I never asked?
“Today.”
I blink at him, thinking I can’t possibly have heard him right. “No, my birthday is today.”
“So is mine.”
“We have the same birthday?” I don’t know why I make it a question when he’s already made it clear.
“Yes.”
“Why did you never tell me?” It’s not like I made an announcement to him about my birthday, but he’s looked at my information, so he had to know.
“It’s not important.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, a coincidence like that is definitely not important.”
“It’s just a birthday.” He ruffles his hair again. It’s getting more unkempt, like he doesn’t care to have it trimmed lately.
“I would’ve gotten you something,” I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest.
He lowers in front of me. “I know you would have.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me?”
He gives a shrug. “It never came up.”
I look away from him, not satisfied with that explanation. I give myself a few seconds to be angry, and then I look back at him with nothing but sadness. “Happy birthday, Lachlan.”
His eyes roam my face like he’s studying every detail. “Happy birthday, Dani,” he says again.
It startles me when his fingers brush my knee as he stands. I know he did it on purpose.
He sits back down at his desk, returning to his work, and once again we’re pretending to be nothing but strangers.
I blow out the candle on the salted caramel cheesecake. Sage brought me to some fancy restaurant to celebrate, but I would’ve been fine eating pizza at home. Though, this cheesecake does look delicious.
Taking the candle out, I take a bite of dessert while Sage watches.
“Mmm,” I hum.
After the larger dinner we had, I wasn’t sure I could stomach any more, but let’s face it, there’s always room for dessert.
Sage digs into the brownie sundae he ordered for himself.
“How would you say your birthday has been?”