Page 42 of Satisfaction Guaranteed

The color in his face betrays him, although it’s no match for Alana’s complexion. The poor girl looks about the same as the cherry-red convertible he saw parked out front. He leans into her, tone every bit as mirthful as his expression. “You talk to your mom about me?” He wags his brows, and his smile sharpens when Alana shoots him with a brooding glare and an elbow to the side.

Thankfully, her mother comes to his defense. “Alana! This man is company, cut that foolishness out,” she chastises. She shakes her head and hands Cyrus a small plate so he can sample the spread. “Let me know what you think. Family recipe,” she tells him. There’s pride in her eyes as she stands there waiting, and it tells him all he needs to know about the food he’s about to try.

Cyrus takes a forkful, and the noise he makes is ungodly. Oh, were his suspicions correct. The salty, savory greens mixed with the sugary sweet potatoes damn near cause tears to well in his eyes. Thank goodness Tommy wasn’t here; that man would have this entire function cleared out in under ten minutes.

“Ma’am, do you need another man around the house?” Cyrus asks with his mouth full. “I’d earn my keep around here, I swear.”

Alana’s mother, Imani, as she had been called by a passing family member, waves him off with a smile. “Well, if you’re offering.” She flashes her daughter a knowing look, and Alana averts her gaze.

Rather than respond, she asks her mother to fix him a to-go plate once the rest of the food is ready, then rushes Cyrus elsewhere to prevent further humiliation. He ends up meeting some of Alana’s other family along the way: cousins, aunts, and uncles, some of whom happened to be local, while others, like her parents, had traveled in to see her. At some point, he’s led to a chair with the self-proclaimed elders of the party, while Alana dips away to greet an old friend.

Luckily, being around Alana’s family comes easier than he’d anticipated. Their laughter flows with a sense of familiarity, and sitting on the sidelines listening to their stories brings him back to his childhood, where he used to do the same. It’s absent of the tension that usually accompanies meeting people for the first time—not knowing what to say or how to act. But much like with Alana, being in their company felt as natural as breathing.

The idle chatter from the older gentleman next to him fades as Cyrus’ attention falls to the lake, where Alana has joined Citlalli. She’s been pulled into an impromptu water balloon fight, all playful screams and war calls. He watches her from a distance, eyes trained on every flex of muscle or thrilled smile. Her laughter breaks across the commotion, bright and honeyed, like the glasses of sun tea gathering condensation on the coasters.

He swears that laugh could rival the warmest day of August, leaving him warm for days to come.

“Having a good time?” A hand pats his shoulder. When Cyrus glances up, he finds Imani looking down at him. There’s a softness in her eyes as she hands him another small plate of those greens he devoured. “You know, I have to admit that I was surprised to see Alana bring you around, but I’m glad she did. Not often I get to meet new…friends.”

He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, the other graciously accepting his plate. “It may have been more of a self invitation, if I’m being honest, ma’am,” he confesses. His face twists at just how pathetic that sounds out loud. It didn’t take much convincing on Citlalli’s part to get him here. Hells, it really didn’t take any at all.

Imani shrugs; her smile shifts into something more motherly in its quality. “In either case, I’ll tell you one thing: she was very happy to see you.”

The thought of being responsible for even a sliver of Alana’s happiness probably shouldn’t make heat blossom in Cyrus’ chest, and yet…

“I’m thinkin’ Miss Alana may just be a happy person in general,” he chuckles.

Imani lifts a sculpted brow, and he sees even more of Alana in her than he did before. “She is. But she hasn’t always been,” she says with a sigh, then looks out at the water where her daughter and friends are, her expression shifting. “There was a time I was worried about her for a while. It was tough for her when she was growing up, making friends and all that. School is hard when you stand out, whether you’re human or otherwise. Let’s just say it’s taken a while for Alana to find her people.” There’s a pat on the shoulder again, a gentle touch that’s easy to lean into.

“Really?” Cyrus’ eyes widen a fraction. It’s hard to envision Alana as anything other than a sweet, popular girl everyone tends to gravitate towards. “Why, I’d imagine someone like her had friends around every corner.”

“You’d think,” Imani says. “She’s always been a sweet kid, but this world is a flawed one. A chubby black girl with a skin condition growing up in the 2000s? Well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how judgmental people can be. Humans have found all types of new ways to dislike each other, let alone folks of different species or with magical powers.”

Something churns unpleasantly in Cyrus’ chest when he hears that. He had it easier than others, being a shifter. It meant he could present himself as human when it mattered most, and no one thought to question him or his brother about it when they were at school or anything else. That’s not to say he didn’t get flak for other things when he was a kid. His accent, the way he dressed, or what he brought to lunch some days.

“What I’m trying to get at is I’ve seen her at her lows, and I’ve seen her at her highs. I know that look in her eyes that tells me when she’s genuinely happy or just trying to save face,” Imani continues. “And that look she had when she brought you to the table? It’s something I haven’t seen in a while, baby. But I’ll leave it at that.”

With that, Imani slinks off to join the others on the patio, just in time for Alana to come jogging out of the water. The heat must be making him delirious, because he swears she moves in slow motion when she does. Body swaying, pellets of water cascading down her body. He shifts his plate in his lap.

“Hey!” Alana calls, breathless from her journey over. “Citlalli wants to play volleyball, but we need another player out there. Want to join us?” She looks at him with those big, round eyes that feel impossible to say no to.

Cyrus is fairly certain Alana could ask him to lasso the moon, and he’d give it his best shot, rope in hand. He glances behind her towards the company waiting for her return, waving and pleading for him to come too. The couple who he assumes were Citlalli’s partners are resting on the sidelines, leaving Citlalli, Alana, and—

Wait, is that…

“Yoooo! What’s good, y’all? Sorry I’m late!”

Cyrus squints against the sun to see a familiar build rushing out to the dock. He greets everyone with a boisterous laugh before doing a cannonball into the water, subsequently splashing everyone around him in the aftermath.

“Is that Connor? What is he doing here?” There’s a twitch beneath his eye, in his fingers.

Alana tilts her head. “Oh, yeah. He must have finally come with the drinks. I told you we went on a date, remember? He’s actually pretty sweet.” She turns to wave at the minotaur.

There’s a note of surprise in Connor’s expression when he sees Cyrus—followed by a smug grin that sends an itch under his skin. His presence quickly reminds Cyrus why he’s here in the first place, and his mind reels. Are they going steady now? Had he missed his shot?

“So, um, what do you say?” Alana asks. She nods to the lake, expectant.

Cyrus contemplates his options. This is about as good a time as any to cut his losses and make his leave. However, that would mean leaving her here with Connor. And, well, that just won’t do. He’s about to agree when it hits him that he hasn’t come prepared. “Ah, shit. Sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t even have a swimsuit.”