When I look up from my plate, my gaze collides with Canon’s dark eyes fixed on me. Ever since he sat down, his glance has skidded over everyone, never settling, like a bee who can’t find a flower worthy of pollination. But he’s looking at me now, and I’ll be damned if I can look anywhere else. My breath is snatched under his scrutiny. It’s intent and discerning, his stare. I feel like something under glass he may add to his collection.
