mid-sentence. “Shit. Sorry. That’s extremely rude of me. I didn’t mean…”
This is why you have no friends, Katrina, I chastise myself with a mental slap for good measure. And then, for added effect, I kick myself in the proverbial balls as well.
“I can hear your voice, Sherlock,” she quips good-naturedly, not taking offense at all to my…um…word vomit. It’s a real disease. “You sound…sad. Morose. And as your friend, I don’t like it. Now, tell me what’s going on,” she demands.
As if on cue—as if the universe itself is playing a cruel practical joke on me and then laughing its ass off (side note, would the ass of the universe be Hell? Is it laughing its Hell off?)—the bell to the coffee shop jingles once more as the door is thrown open, and Janie St. James and her merry band of bitches step inside. Instinctively, I try to make myself as small as possible, practically shrinking into my seat.
Oh, hear me, great floor monster, and swallow me whole.
Why is she here?
Is she stalking me?
I know that’s illogical, but my brain is currently in a state of what the fuck do I do now?
As if she feels my gaze on her, Janie turns to stare at me, eyes widening almost imperceptibly in her stupidly pretty face. She nudges her friend, and her friend nudges another girl, and so on and so on, until all five of them are staring at me and tittering.
Lucy frowns, peering over her shoulder as if she’s actually capable of seeing them.
“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice uncharacteristically dark.
“Well apparently, the entire school now knows I’m in a relationship with more than one man.” I shrug, attempting to appear nonchalant, as if this is just a normal fucking day. “The only good news is that they think I’m only in a relationship with two men, not five.” I chuckle, though the sound is anything but jovial.
Because let’s be real. Teenagers are shit. They ridicule things and people they don’t understand, all for their own amusement.
Lucy’s face creases in confusion. “How is that good news? Shouldn’t you want to brag about your relationship to the heavens?” Her lips twitch slightly, as if she’s in the know of an inside joke, before they immediately straighten into a thin line.
“I mean…”
“Are you embarrassed of your men?” Lucy presses, her long, manicured fingers rolling a piece of muffin into a tiny ball.
“What?” I ask, aghast. “No!”
If anything, they should be embarrassed of me. I mean, that cat meow thing? Not my finest moment.
“Look,” she rolls her eyes and takes a hearty sip of her coffee, “I don’t know you that well. Yet. But I can hear in your voice that you care a lot about them, right?” I nod wordlessly at her assessment.
Care about them a lot…
It might just be the understatement of the century.
“And those bitches behind me?” She throws her head back to indicate Janie and her friends, all of whom are still staring at me and whispering. I catch snippets of conversation, certain words floating to me, as if they’re purposely speaking louder.
“Whore.”
“Slut.”
“They’re just jealous of you,” Lucy continues, shoving another wadded-up piece of muffin into her mouth. She moans softly, leaning back to pat at her toned stomach, before continuing, “And I don’t fucking blame them. From what I’ve gathered, you have five hotties at your beck and call. And how many do they have?” She twists in her seat, pointing very accurately at Janie first. “Zero.” Her finger moves to the girl behind Janie. Molly, I think. “One, but he’s a cheating douche. And that red-haired one? She has two…but they don’t know, and they’re secretly fucking each other behind her back as well.”
I can’t help but snort.
“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m in a healthy relationship with some incredible, sexy men, and I should be proud instead of embarrassed.”
“Damn right!” Lucy exclaims, swallowing the last bite of her muffin and ambling to her feet. She reaches for her walking stick and places it out in front of her. “I need to get going, but we should do this again.”
“Definitely,” I agree immediately. My conversation with Lucy makes me feel lighter than I remember being in weeks. The stress of my outed relationship with Akor and Zolroth no longer resembles a semi-truck on my shoulders, steadily crushing me beneath its immense weight.
Because Lucy’s right.
My relationship with the demons may be unconventional, may be considered wrong by normal societal standards, but it’s the truest thing in