Since our ill-fated dinner when we fought and half the meal ended up on the floor, Wolfe has sent me an invitation to dine with him every evening since. One week. Seven meals.
With each sit-down interaction I have with him, my level of comfort around him grows. I'm becoming used him in a strange sort of way. He's gradually becoming less larger-than-life and god-like and becoming more of a man in my eyes. There's still an invisible tension that constantly brews in the air between us, but I've become more used to the feeling. I don't yet know what it means, but I don't hate it anymore.
As usual, I put extra care into my outfit while berating myself that it doesn't matter. Not only doesn't Wolfe care about what I wear to dinner, but I shouldn't care what he thinks. Still, every evening I g
