Page 12 of The Monster and the Masochist

With her long dark hair, lean, athletic body, and the face of Aphrodite, she was a femme goddess… It was cosmically unfair that she wasn’t interested in women. Someone so perfect shouldn’t be wasted on some idiot straight man that probably didn’t wash his own ass because he was worried it would make him gay or something.

So unfair.

Sighing, I shoved up off the frame of the door and resolved to try to wrangle up my demons with a fat joint instead of vodka.

Weed was always a gamble. Sometimes it just made the anxiety worse, but it usually also prevented me from giving in to the desire to drink myself unconscious, if only because it made me overthink everything, including my own fucked up coping mechanisms.

Slipping into my bedroom, I dug through my end table for my bag of indica, hoping like hell it would help me pass out before my demons finally caught up with me.

The cafe was packed, as usual, and Jerry and I were sequestered off at our usual table in the back.

I had one eye on the door, waiting to see if Cass would make an appearance, and another eye on the fight plan Jerry was running me through.

Cass didn’t always come in the mornings. She had some fancy espresso machine in her condo, apparently, that she used on weekdays so she didn’t have to stop on her way to the office.

Don’t ask me how I knew that.

I’m not a stalker.

I swear.

But, as if the universe was rewarding me for not giving in to my demons the night before, the goddess herself blew into the cafe.

Suddenly, everything Jerry was saying turned to gibberish in my ears.

It was like every single brain cell I had could only focus on one thing, and that was Cassandra Fucking Walker.

Her thick, glossy hair hung to her narrow waist in inky black waves. She looked angry, which seemed to be her natural state, and she was barking at someone on her phone as she strolled in. Her toned legs effortlessly carried her through the crowd of people waiting for coffee on four-inch red bottoms, and my mouth watered as the hem of her pencil skirt rode up slightly with each predatory step.

“I don’t fucking know, Nolan. I’ll get there when I get there. I need a coffee, and the stupid thing Edmund bought me isn’t working again. Four-thousand-dollar machine, and it can’t even make espresso. Make it make sense.”

I wasn’t sure if she was yelling or if I was just so zoned in on her that her voice stood out to me over the relentless chatter of the crowd, but I felt my lip twitch in amusement.

Cass was eyeing the massive line of people ahead of her with irritation, and whoever she was talking to on the phone seemed to just be pissing her off even more.

“I told you I don’t know. This line is long as fuck. I thought you were this big hotshot? Figure it out. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Such a filthy mouth.

Jesus.

I was so obsessed with her.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Jerry, interrupting whatever he’d been saying about my next opponent’s defense strategy.

I barely heard his irritated grumble as I slipped away from the table and made my way to the side of the service counter, catching one of the baristas’ attention.

“Oh, hey, Theo!” Maria beamed. She had six half-made drinks in front of her, was splattered with various syrups, and had whipped cream in her hair. I chuckled.

Maria was a sweetheart. Even as busy as she was, she still made time to chat with me whenever I bugged her.

“Hey, pretty girl.” I smiled, and her cheeks flushed with a delicate blush, causing my grin to widen further. “I know you’re super busy, but I forgot to order a drink for my friend when I was up here. You think you could squeeze it in real quick? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Maria nodded enthusiastically.

“O-of course! What does your friend want?”

“Venti triple long iced oat-milk latte. Thanks so much, babe. You’re a lifesaver.”