“Katrina, I love you,” I tell her, dropping the counselor-student act.
“I know. I love you too. Thank you for being gentle.”
I chuckle hollowly. “I don’t know that I was gentle enough.”
Her hand touches my cheek, but she doesn’t say anything, her eyes shining happily. Then she turns and grabs her backpack. She looks at the door of my office and sighs. “Part of me really doesn’t want to go out there,” she murmurs.
“You can stay here and talk to me as long as you want.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“Trina, you need to talk to someone, because this is clearly upsetting you. And you need someone who understands.” I come around my desk, fixing my pants and zipping them up as I simultaneously retract my horns and shield my red eyes.
Her eyes light up at that. “Oh, I know just who I can talk to!” She smiles widely as she opens the door.
I quickly come forward to escort her out. “Who?”
She shrugs as she walks through the door. “I met this woman…” Her voice trails off when we leave the counseling lobby and enter the hallway.
All around us, students are making out, tongues stuck down one another’s throats. Some are standing, some are sprawled across the tiles dry-humping.
“What the hell?” Katrina whispers.
I even spot two teachers locking lips near the water fountain.
“Whoops.”
Guess I lusted the school a little bit while I was with Katrina. I turn to her and raise my hands in a “what-can-you-do” shrug. Both of us burst in uncontrollable laughter.
20
Katrina
I tap my fingers against the wooden table as I await Lucy’s arrival. A red eye in a tall cup sits opposite me, alongside a large chocolate chip muffin. My own mocha rests untouched, the heat emitting from the Styrofoam cup warming my frigid fingers.
The coffee shop is practically empty at this time of day, only a red-faced barista, a table of older men, and a lone college student present.
Is she going to come?
Fuck, why did I ask her?
You barely even know the girl, Katrina. Why would she want to be friends with you?
She’s going to think you’re a weirdo, just like the rest of the school.
Retreat. If you run now, then—
My internal tangent is cut off by the tinkling bell announcing her arrival. She extends her cane in front of her, clicking it against the tiles, as her head tilts in my general direction.
“Lucy!” I lick my suddenly dry lips as I stand, waving her over. She’s blind, you dumbass! “I’m here!”
“I can see that,” she says, smirking at her own joke. Her purple hair shines beneath the fluorescent lights as she steps closer, the only sound the clack, clack, clack of her walking stick.
With an agility and self-assuredness that leave me stunned, she slides into the seat opposite mine and grabs her cup of coffee.
“Oh my god,” she groans, tilting her head back. “This is the nectar of the gods!”
Is this the time where I make a joke that only I’ll understand about there actually being a god? You know, angels and demons and all that…so I’m assuming there’s a big man too.
Nah. She’ll think you’re a religious lunatic, Katrina. You can’t be weird.
Don’t.
Be.
Weird.
“I’m happy you called.” Lucy absently picks at the sticker on her cup, the one labeling her drink type and my name when I placed the order. “I needed to get away from all of the…” She wiggles her fingers in the air with a grimace.
“Testosterone?” I supply with a nod of solidarity. Because, girl, same. I feel that on a spiritual level.
“I love them and all, but…” She shakes her head slowly. “They can be overbearing, possessive, slightly psychotic pains in my ass.” Her frown curls upwards into a conspiratorial smirk as she leans forward on her elbows and winks. “Literally. One of them is very into anal play.”
Are my cheeks on fire?
Am I dying of spontaneous combustion?
Not that I’m against some butt action with my guys…
Molten lava percolates in my stomach as memory of my time with Van plays on repeat in my head. I practically rub my thighs together like some shameless hussy desperate for her next lay.
Probably not the most appropriate thing to do in front of your new friend.
We talked about this, Katrina. What did we say about being weird?
“So, what’s up with the glum face?” Lucy queries, and I straighten in surprise.
“How can you…? I mean, you’re blin—” I gesture to my own face, my skin on fire, as she chuckles, the noise stopping my stupid in