Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell #2) - Juliette Cross Page 0,82
for potions? What kinds of potions do you make? Do you write your own spells for customers?”
Hello, Mr. Interrogation. I wanted to ask if he was collecting data because that seemed an innate need for grims. Then again, I guess it was his nature to gather all the info he could. So I told him about the plants I grew, the different bundles I made for the shop. This was no big state secret or anything. I explained the different items we sold as well and kept answering all of his questions until I had to hold up a finger to pause him so I could take my first sip of the glass of wine Belinda had dropped and I hadn’t touched.
Before he could dive back in, I reversed the tables. “So, Terry. What about you? What do you do?”
He stared at me a minute, taking a sip of his wine, then answered, “I teach philosophy.”
“Oh, wow. That sounds cool. Where at? UNO? Loyola?”
“Wherever I can.”
Um, what?
“So, are you a university instructor?”
“Of sorts.” He let his smile widen. Okayyyy.
“That’s like being sort of pregnant.”
“Is it, though?”
Oh, my God. This guy.
“So you don’t want to talk about your job. Tell me about being a grim. I’ve never actually met one. What’s that like?”
“It’s quite…nebulous.”
I let out a little laugh. “That makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Now his cutesy smile was irritating. Was he playing games with me? Or was this really what he was like?
“Well, tell me anything about yourself. Like anything. That wasn’t already in your profile.” Which was only two things.
He must’ve heard the frustration in my voice, and yet his answer frustrated me even more.
“I can tell you that I find you very beautiful.”
Is this guy for real? How could I date someone who refused to tell me about himself? I enjoyed a good intellectual debate as much as the next woman, but I didn’t want to play mind games just to find out where the hell this dude earned his paycheck.
It’s funny how some gorgeous guys can lose their attractiveness the more you saw their flaws. It’s also funny how some guys grow more attractive the more they showed you their humor, their intelligence, their sensitivity, and compassion. Like someone else I knew.
“Well, tell me about what kinds of philosophy you teach.”
His eyes widened with a spark of interest, and then finally he started talking. Unfortunately, the topic had my eyes glazing over. By the time he’d covered existentialism and Jean-Paul Sartre’s brilliant definition of this cultural movement, then moved onto relativism and realism, I’d finished my second glass of wine and was internally screaming to be released from captivity.
“Excuse me,” he said, taking a sip of wine and setting it down. “I’m going to run to the restroom.”
I was inwardly sighing with relief to get a break from the philosophy lesson. Then suddenly Terry’s seat was filled by the man I couldn’t stop thinking about.
“So, how’s the date going?” asked Devraj with the most perfectly amused smile stretching across his handsome face.
I whipped my head around to be sure Terry hadn’t seen, then faced the grinning vampire.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper-hissed.
“I was just at the bar having a drink, talking to JJ, when I saw you over here. He told me you were on your first Zapp date,” he said casually, which eased my guilt a little from how he looked last Sunday. “So have you decided?” He propped his perfectly trimmed, bearded chin on his hand thoughtfully. “Are you an existentialist or a realist? I really need to know.”
I clamped my jaw tight and narrowed my gaze. He chuckled to himself and grinned wider, continuing on. “As for myself, I’d like to hear more about Freud’s sexual theories.” He arched a salacious brow at me. “Is your super-ego hiding any dormant sexual fetishes that I should know about?”
“Shut. Up.” I glanced at the restrooms again while he laughed at my expense then snapped my attention back to him. “For your information, he’s a very interesting guy.”
“Very. If you like listening to dissertations.”
“How could you hear from over at the bar?” I stared accusingly.
“I’m good at lip-reading,” he answered with a shrug.
“He’s telling me about his work,” I defended, trying not to smile at his obscene intrusiveness. “This is what people do when they date.”
“Is it?” His expression morphed into confusion. “But I thought the point was to actually attract the person you’re dating.”
“Stop being mean. And leave. Before he gets back.”