Yes, but I don’t know what. Sid blew out a breath. “Sorry. I’m a weirdo at the best of times, but you... I don’t know.”
“Oh.” Comprehension cleared Dante’s puzzled frown. He ventured forwards again, further this time, until he was as close as he’d been when he’d taken Sid’s arm in the yard. “Do I fascinate you? Make you feel like being around me is exciting even though I’ve done fuck all to make you think I’m remotely interesting?”
“What?”
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Whatever it is that’s twisting you up. Say it, then I can tell you why you’re wrong.”
Sid swallowed, unable to contemplate how a simple conversation had become so intense so fast. “But what if I’m not wrong? What if you do fascinate me and that’s okay?”
Dante’s frown returned, deeper. Darker. “It’s not okay.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a good person who deserves better than to waste your, uh,fascinationson me.” Dante tapped Sid’s temple like Sid had earlier, but his touch was gentle, not sharp and punishing, a feather-light touch that left Sid dizzy. “Save what’s in there for someone who matters.”
He backed up before Sid could take a breath. Sid gripped the counter behind him, a crackle of misplaced pressure hugging his chest. “You matter,” he said slowly. “Someone wanted you to have this job.”
Dante smirked, and it changed his whole face, sharpening his features into blade-like edges. “Maybe I manipulated that person into thinking I was worth it. I do that, you know. Manipulate people into liking me so they do what I want.”
“Yeah? What do you want from me then? Cos all I’ve got is a bag of weed and a pot of rice, and you already turned me down for both of those things.”
A silence stretched out between them, weighted and painful. Or maybe Sid had reached the part of his day where everything hurt, even his eyeballs, as he lost himself in Dante’s honeycomb glare.
Then, as if a higher power had clicked their fingers, Dante’s expression softened. He closed his eyes and sucked in a shaky breath before he met Sid’s gaze again. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m still learning humility.”
“When did you lose it?”
“I never had it.”
Sid braved releasing his death grip on the counter. “I don’t believe that. Something happened to take it from you. That’s why you can get it back.”
“That’s your theory, huh?”
“It’s yours, actually. Your ability to pretend you’re an evil person has evolved enough to abandon you.”
Dante’s lips twitched. “That’s not what I said.”
“Yeah, well.” Sid reached for his vegetables and a knife from the block. “It’s what I heard, and it’s what I’ll believe until you show me otherwise.”
“Fair enough.” Dante threw Sid a dry grin and left.
5
The earth in the manor grounds was different to the sand-heavy soil Dante had battled in the prison gardens. Years of diligent care had left it rich and nutrient-dense. It held water better, and the fertilisers Sid and Dante mixed in stayed put.
Dante was enchanted. He trailed his fingers through the damp clumps. “I used to watch the rain from my cell window knowing it was washing all the fertilisers away, and every time it did, I’d lose more time.”
He spoke to himself as much as Sid, who he’d found in the last few weeks zoned out as often as Dante stayed silent. But Sid heard him this time and came to squat at his side. “Was that your job in the prison? To work in the gardens?”
“Towards the end. I worked in the library before that. Then a course came up that I thought might help me grow my own weed when I got out, and here I am.”
Sid snorted. “Worked out okay, didn’t it?”
“I guess.”