shiny silver ball in the return. “Get her a beer, she looks like she could use one.”
“I’m underage. And you’re supposed to be a school counselor.”
“Yes. And I’m advising you to calm down. Here,” Van grabs a beer from the pitcher Kastros just hauled back over. He hands me the golden, frothy liquid, and I cringe at the smell. Do I drink? Sometimes (read, almost never). At parties (which I typically avoid). Not in public (this is very public).
“Um…”
“William’s drinking.” Van raises an eyebrow in challenge.
I glance over at William and Janie, and they do indeed have two cups of beer and they’re openly drinking them. I quickly take a gulp and set down my cup.
“No. Isn’t it a rite of passage to chug it?” Van asks, taking the seat next to me and casually tossing his arm up over the empty seatback on his other side. Damn him and his raw, amazing sex appeal. His words slither through my bones and whisper across my senses, and it feels like he’s dared my clit. She, unlike me, has a wild streak. She once got involved with a pager she found in a junk drawer. (Don’t ask. Seriously. Don’t.)
I chug the beer and wipe my mouth as the demons all cheer around me. Well, except Kastros, who gives a fist pump of appreciation before he sits down to add the rest of their names to our game.
I glance over in William’s direction, and he raises an eyebrow at me, like he’s asking, “What’s going on?”
I give a lost little shrug in return, and he gives a “that sucks” face. I nod in agreement, giddy that I’m actually having a cogent conversation with him. Okay fine. A gestured one. But still. Ticks and tacos have not come up once. Plus, he’s being sympathetic. Isn’t that so cute?
Ugh. This moment is totally going in the mental shrine.
That is, until Van pinches my ass and makes me shriek and jump like a lunatic.
I whirl around on him, and he gives me the most infuriating innocent expression.
“What the hell!” I speak through gritted teeth.
“You won’t make him jealous if you pay attention to him. The whole mystique is lost. Watch me.” Van glances over at some girls from school who have just emerged from an escape room.
He gives them a bored look before glancing back at me. “Now watch them.”
Immediately, they titter excitedly, and I can just imagine their conversation because it’s the same one I’ve had with Stace every time William has so much as looked in my direction.
“Yeah, well, not all of us were born with supermodel looks. I can’t just make guys fawn in two seconds flat.”
Van stands so that he’s next to me. Way, way too close. And for a second, I wonder if the beer I chugged is hitting me or if he’s using his lust power on me. Either way, I start to feel lightheaded. He leans down to my good ear and whispers, “Are you sure?”
I’m breathless. Frozen. My clit is screeching and doing a victory dance.
But Van just reaches around me and grabs his bowling ball, then saunters up to the lane like he’s completely unaware I just creamed my panties.
No big deal. He makes girls do it all the time, I tell myself. But that does not make me feel better. For some reason, I don’t like that Van does this to other girls. When he tosses his first ball and turns back to stare at me, he smirks.
“Shut up.” I turn away from him. “I don’t like you.”
He laughs.
Instead of dignifying that with another response, I move over to Zolroth, my real date for the evening. I sit down at his side and sigh with a strange sense of contentment when he wraps his arm around me. “Stop letting Van pick on me.”
“Van, leave the lady alone, or I’ll be forced to recruit a couple of furies to pluck your ballsack hair,” Zolroth threatens.
“Last time you tried that, they just ended up sucking my cock,” Van returns in a bored tone.
“Okay, fine. Gargoyles it is.”
Van’s eyes narrow.
Mine, on the other hand, widen. I turn to Zolroth and ask, “What are furies? And are gargoyles really…”
“Made of stone? Yeah. They don’t feel lust, which pisses Van right the fuck off. I’m not sure why I don’t invite them ’round more often. They’re both lower level demons. Carry out a lot of the functional administration for Hell.”
“Hell has an administration?”
Zolroth waves a hand leisurely as he tucks