Page 52 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

“Sweet. Not that I’m like—it’s not because I’m eager to fuck. I mean, I am, but that’s not why I’m asking.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I know. I’m eager too,” I say. “How was the session today?”

“Great. We got a lot done,” he says with a smile. “I want to show you some of the stems when you’re done down here. Almost closing time, right?”

“It’s slow, maybe I’ll just close up early,” I say.

“Don’t,” he says. “I need to shower anyway, I got really sweaty today. Is it cool if I use your shower again?”

“Of course,” I say. “I’ll see you up there.”

He smiles as he leans down to kiss me again. “See you up there,” he agrees as he takes the stairs by twos and vanishes into my apartment.

I’m really starting to love this casual domesticity we have going on.

In fact, I’m really starting to love him. And there is something kind of terrifying about that, if I’m being honest. I know Damien feels awkward. I know he’s worried about the fact that we haven’t gone out again, that I won’t let him treat me to dinner or take me on trips, but he doesn’t understand how much it does for me that he’s simply into me.

I’ve never experienced someone so unapologetically attracted to me. So unapologetically eager to spend every spare moment with me. The fact that he’s willing to not only show me, but be open about it with others too.

He plays middle man between himself and the band. Bringing me questions from Oren or asking Fletcher something for me and reporting back later. Even arguing with Satoshi over the odd thing I’ve taught him. He’s doing everything he can to embed me into his life and it’s nice to feel wanted. Appreciated. Admired.

Because I admire him so much. Every day since meeting him has felt like waking up in the fanfic of my dreams.

I round the counter and pick up Bastion’s tiny book, making sure to crack the spine out of spite. I reach up to the mounted magnifying glass I use to inspect jewelry and crystals and begin to read.

With any luck, this little book will actually hold the answers I need. With any luck, I can start treating Damien in the way he so very much deserves.

ㅤ

Daniel Hawthorne, huh?

I fixate on the false name while I wash my hair with Lillith’s homemade shampoo (which I’ve become completely obsessed with, by the way.) I wonder why she gave Bunyon or whatever the fuck his name was a fake name. Does she not want her friends knowing she’s dating a musician?

And what the fuck was up with them holding hands when I walked in? And why the guilty look after she snatched her hand back?

I shake my head and step underneath the flow of the hot water, breathing out through my mouth slowly as I center myself, the stream fanning over my closed eyes as I carefully inhale through my nose.

Lillith and I aren’t exclusive. She’s allowed to hold the hand of whoever she wants, first of all. And secondly, the guy did use the same nickname that Wren used for her the one time I met her, so maybe they really are childhood friends.

Still, I can’t help but feel like Lillith doesn’t want to be seen with me. I’ve tried a couple times to get her out of the house—even just for a walk down to the beach—but there’s always some reason she can’t. She’s tired, her UTI is bothering her, she needs sleep before her next day of work and so on. And don’t get me wrong, those are all perfectly valid reasons for staying in, but it doesn’t stop her from staying up into the wee hours of the night with me so we can kiss each other stupid. So the excuses leave me confused and stressed out.

I’m probably overthinking. No, I am definitely overthinking.

But... man, I can’t get over the Daniel Hawthorne thing. What the fuck was that about?

I know I’ve spent too long in the shower when I hear my band’s music drift into the bathroom from Lillith’s Bluetooth speaker in the living room. She’s already closed up the shop and I haven’t even scrubbed my body down yet.

I make quick work of doing just that. She has a new bar of soap in the shower. This one smells like lemon and rosemary. It’s also incredible. Who’d have guessed a witch running an oddities shop would be so good at skin care?

I get out of the shower and change into some clothes I left here one of my previous visits. Some old black jeans and a charcoal henley. I brush my teeth with a toothbrush I also left on a previous visit. After using a bit of body spray I come out of the bathroom.

I find Lillith in her bed, reading from a teeny tiny book with... the thickest set of Coke-bottle glasses on. She looks up at me and blinks blearily from behind them, her silver eyes comically large.

I snort a laugh. I can’t help it. It just bubbles out of the back of my throat.

“What?!”

“Do you actually need those?” I ask through more laughter. “They make you look like some sort of cute gecko.”