Page 120 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

“Fine!” she says. “Can we stop fighting now?”

I heave out a soft breath and drop my arms from where they’re crossed. “Yeah, it’s hard to fight with you.”

“Totally,” she says, pulling me up and into her arms. “I can’t believe you’re wearing the ‘fuck me’ heels. You ate shit last time.”

“The what heels?” Damien asks.

We both turn to look at my boyfriend, who has returned with new clothes on. Satoshi is standing next to him, looking vaguely green. I don’t spend much time looking at Wren’s... whatever he is. Damien is the only thing I can see.

Damien apparently cleans up really well. Granted, he could have taken me out in what he was wearing at my place and he still would have looked really stylish and sexy. Honestly, I only expected him to change into a plain black shirt and maybe grab a jacket, but he’s actually dressed up.

He’s wearing a tight, black turtle neck with a delicate pair of matte black chains on top. Over that, he’s got a distressed denim jacket in a charcoal grey. He’s still wearing black jeans, but these are pristine. Inky and crisp with no tearing in sight. His shoes are shiny leather wingtips, all black. He’s even wearing some pretty drop earrings behind his gauges.

He looks so... wow. Just... Wow. He smirks like he knows I think so, tucking a hand into his jean pocket so the hem of his jacket drapes over his forearm like he’s some Calvin Klein model with hand tattoos.

“Damn, girl,” Wren says, low enough that only I can hear it.

“I know, right?” I whisper.

She releases me, letting me shuffle up to him. I wrap my arms around his middle and he takes his hand out of his pocket to let it rest on the small of my back. “You look so good, Damien,” I say.

His sharpened canines send a thrill through me as he grins down at me, his other hand catching the side of my face as he draws his callused thumb over my cheekbone. “Yeah?” he says. “You like it when I clean up, hmm?”

He leans down to kiss me before I can answer, bowing over me as he pulls my hips into his. I can’t help but grin into the kiss when he breaks it to capture my lower lip between his teeth.

“Let me get a picture of you two,” Wren says behind us. I look over at her just in time for the shutter sound to go off on her phone. “One more. Actually pose for it. Lilipad, put your hand on his chest—yeah, perfect—and Damien—Okay, go off, mister eye-fucking-the-camera.” The shutter sound goes off again.

The photos come to my phone seconds later and they’re just... eugh. They’re perfect.

“Send those to me,” Damien says as soon as he sees them.

“Yet another new lock screen,” Oren sighs as he comes from the studio and leans on the door.

Damien shoots him a look. “Just because you’re a sad, lonely, single man doesn’t mean that I have to be.”

Oren snorts as Damien pulls up his phone and messes with his settings. He ends up choosing the first picture—the one Wren took candid. It’s cute, honestly. It looks like a sultry fragrance ad. Damien is looking into the camera with his two-toned eyes. He’s bent over me as I look back, too. My lips parted, eyes wide.

I see it in the photo first and then I look up at him.

“Damien, you have black lipstick on your—”

“Leave it,” he says. “I told you I like having evidence.”

Still, as he says it, he uses his thumb to clean up the line of my lipstick on my lower lip. His eyes crinkle with warmth as he beams down at me. He looks at me the way that I always dreamed of being looked at when I was a lonesome witch in high school. Like I’m the center of his galaxy—like I’m something he’d be devastated to lose.

“Dame, before you guys head out, can you re-record a few bars from Swarm?” Oren asks. “Fletch said there are some issues with peaking because of a mic that got shifted.”

Damien glares at his best friend. “Bro,” he says. “It can fucking wait until tomorrow.”

“It actually can’t,” Fletcher says as he appears in from the stairwell. He meets eyes with me and smiles apologetically. “Hey, Lillith. I’m really truly sorry to disrupt your nice night with your boyfriend. But Roxie said the label needs a single to slice up and start marketing. Can we borrow him for about half an hour?”

“No,” Damien replies flatly. “I’m not sweating before taking her out, dickhead.”

“Is this... new Portent music?” I ask.

I feel Damien’s hand twitch on my lower back, and he looks down at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.

“Did you forget you found your girlfriend waiting outside the venue six hours before doors opened for our show, dumbass?” Satoshi asks.