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The air is muggytonight—the heat of the day just hasn’t dissipated into the night making the heat from the fire pit slightly uncomfortable. Still, the drinks are cold, the stars are bright and the air is heady with the perfume of the flowers from Caelan’s expansive flower gardens.
In the darkness surrounding the fire pit, the chickens cluck contentedly in their pen for the night. Even Henny had eventually been captured and locked up safe. Caelan’s wayward hen had us all chasing after her through the gardens to get her in safe for the night.
It’s a new thing, hanging out with Caelan and Seff outside of the Black Stump. We’d spent years as friends, but it was pretty much always them coming to the tavern. I don’t think we’d ever intended it; it was just how things had worked. Probably because that was how it had started between us.
Things have changed a bit since the rescue. It isn’t just having faced death together and all that stuff—Theo and Tor coming into our lives has shifted the dynamics a bit. We’d gone from abunch of loosely acquainted friends to something closer. We’d bonded, we’d shared something.
I’ve been lucky to have Mauvy by my side since forever, but I’ve never had anything like this before. It’s been nice, which is why it sucks that Mauvy couldn’t make it tonight as well. Someone had to run the tavern after all. So, it’s just us tonight—myfriends, Caelan, Seff, Edith, Tor, andTheo.
And there is the thorn in my side. Any combination of the wordsfriendsandTheois starting to feel like a festering wound.
As it is, it's hard enough to not stalk to the other side of the fire to where he is chatting animatedly with Caelan about the monstrous sunflowers he’s grown, and throw him over my shoulder to drag him back over here to sit with me.Where he belongs.
He seems to sense me staring, because I’ve lost what little ability I had to be subtle about this weeks ago. He freezes mid-sentence, turning to me, his pointed ears red-hot and not from the fire or the heat of the night. His teeth bite into his lip, and I can feel the demand for me to quit it in the look he gives me.
Instead of giving into his silent demand, I wink, raising my bottle slowly to my lips. He watches me take a long sip, greedily taking in every detail, blushing even harder.
Caelan isn't nearly as oblivious as I’d like him to be, though. He looks between us both and rolling his eyes, chooses to chug the beer dangling in his fingers to keep whatever commentary he has to himself.
A flurry of black fabric collapses into the chair next to me, lace, velvet, fur. Absolutely none of it is appropriate for the weather. But I don’t believe Edith has been appropriate a day in her life, so why would she start now?
“So. Goat Boy. How’s things?”
Her look is pointed and staring between me and Theo. Out of reflex, I sneak a look at Tor, who is sitting just behindEdith, showing off his chicken bag to Seff. Apparently when the chickens are giving him troubles, he picks them up and tucks them in the purse-like thing.
He’s certainly changed from the hot pants wearing club dancer-slash-bartender.
Whether it is his fae hearing or that Edith is as subtle as a bulldozer knocking on your door, he hears Edith’s question. I see the exact moment he hears; the tension locking in his back. He holds it for a moment but visibly shakes it off.
At this point, the low key secrecy, or just not talking about what’s happening, feels like a lie by omission. And almost too much effort to maintain.
I know I love Theo. I’m pretty confident that he’s feeling some kind of way about me, too. I want to be with him. My concerns about being with him,reallybeing with him, are still there, but when he looks at me, touches me...when helaughs, I forget all of that, and I just want to claim him already. Tie our spirits together so we never have to spend a moment apart.
Conversations need to be had. The clock is ticking on them. There are things he’s keeping from me, I can see it, but as hisfriend,it’s not my place to pry.
And I am not going to tell Edithanyof this.
“Good. Things are good.”
My sip of cool water is refreshing. I’d switched from beer after my first, wanting to keep a clear head. I don’t drink that much anyway, being around a bar my whole life, I’ve seen the worst that alcohol can do to a being.
Edith’s violet eyes pierce into my spirit, and I can feel her witchy ways poking into my brain. I slam my mental doors shut, blocking her from seeing too much.
“That’s impolite Edith.” I try to keep my tone friendly, but there is still a thread of irritation in my voice.
Edith, being Edith, has exactly zero shame at being called out and smiles wryly at me, waving me off.
“Posh. If you’re not going to give me the gossip, I’ll have to get it by other means.”
She settles back into the old camp chair, kicking her legs over the thin fabric armrest, taking a large gulp of wine from the bottle in her hand.
She brought her own, but I know for a fact that particular bottle is from the guy's private stash in the house. Something special, and expensive, Tor brought back from their trip to Loqueaur City.
“Mauvy tells me that you two haven’t talked yet.”
Bloody Mauvy, always sticking her nose in. She’s lucky I love her.
“Ugh. You two need to stop talking. We’ve talked. We talk. We know what we’re doing.”
