Saved By Your Hot Book Boyfriend

17. Taking the Hot Guy Shopping

17

Taking the Hot Guy Shopping

You

The bright light of mid-morning streams through your windows, blinding you as you shield your eyes.

What day is it?

You’ll just grab your phone—

But when you reach for it, you’re surprised to find your arm won’t move.

Something heavy and very warm is wrapped around your shoulders, pinning you against him.

Yeah, him .

Because that’s definitely a man’s bare chest pressing against your back.

You gasp, leaping out of bed so fast, you nearly trip over your shoes.

And…it all comes tumbling back.

“What?” Ziros asks groggily, scrubbing one palm over his eyes as he sits up. Shirtless . Hair stylishly disheveled. “Another nightmare?”

Heat creeps across your face.

Nightmare?

Slowly, it all comes back to you.

Oh. Oh, my God.

The nightmare.

How embarrassing.

“So, uh, how’d you sleep?” You ask, trying to be as casual as possible as you change the subject in a hurry.

Ziros smirks, folding his arms. “Would have been better if someone didn’t keep screaming and thrashing. And if she’d left me any blankets.”

You blush brighter.

He’s never going to let you live this down, is he?

“Pancakes,” you say in a hurry. “Do you like pancakes?”

“Everyone likes pancakes,” he replies, stretching out lazily on your bed.

Probably not everyone , but you’re actually a little surprised he knows what they are. Grabbing your phone, you search ‘when were pancakes invented’, and are shocked to see the top result says 600 BC. Well, then.

You grab your apron and tie it on over your pajamas, opening your kitchen cabinets.

And stop.

Did a tornado come through here?!

Everything is empty. Or nearly. And it’s a mess. A terrible mess.

Even the sugar is gone.

Both the brown sugar and the white sugar.

Turning to Ziros, you ask, “You…ate it? You ate all the sugar. Raw? All of it??? ”

He just shrugs from where he lies there on your bed.

“I was hungry.”

Opening your fridge, you can see it’s not much better.

Pretty much the only thing he didn’t eat was the raw flour.

These are going to be some very simple pancakes.

You shake your head, glancing at the clock. You’ve got work tonight, but there’s a few hours before you need to get ready. Enough that you could swing by the store and pick up some groceries so you’re not starving when you start your shift.

Maybe you could even take Ziros shopping. Your budget isn’t very big, but he could use at least another change of clothes.

Maybe it’ll even be fun.

* * *

“Wait!” You grab the back of Ziros’ shirt as he heads for the door, pulling him to a stop. “Before we leave, we need some ground rules.”

He swivels, smirking down at you. “Like what , little human?”

“Like calling me ‘human’. Definitely don’t do that in public.”

“Why not?” He grins, folding his arms. And you’re pretty sure he’s purposely being difficult.

And why is he so stupidly tall?! It’s hard to judge these things without actually measuring, but he’s got to be even taller than you first realized. Maybe closer to a foot taller than you. And probably taller than anyone you know.

It’s…kinda hot.

Wait, what?

Shush, hormones! Bad hormones.

“You okay?” Ziros shoots you an infuriatingly handsome and slightly evil smirk as he leans down close to your face. He pokes your forehead, and you swear you feel a zap of warmth from his fingertip.

It’s gotta be the magic linking you together.

Every time you touch, you get this feeling…

Before you get a certain circa-2000s techno hit stuck in your head, he pulls back, shaking his head. “Yeah, you don’t seem okay.”

Oops, the lag in your responses must be making him worry.

Shaking your head, you grab the door handle and mumble, “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Nevermind. Just don’t call me ‘human’ in public and we’re all good.”

He sets one hand on yours, stopping you from opening it.

Another tingling zap of energy sears up your arm, making you jump.

“Then what should I call you… Anzelika ?”

For some reason, just hearing him say that name sends another not-entirely-unpleasant tingle jolting down your spine.

Well then .

“Call me June,” you say, regaining your composure. “That’s my name. The real one—well, the normal one, anyway.”

“Okay, little human .”

“And what should I call you?” Because surely he doesn’t want you to call him by his true name out in public.

To your surprise, he says, “My friends just call me Z.”

“ Friends? ” You repeat before you can stop yourself.

“Hey, no need to sound so shocked.”

But you are shocked. Just a little. After all, the dude was locked in a book for a stupid number of years. That doesn’t really sound super conducive to maintaining friendships.

Not that it seemed to have stopped Vincentius from remembering who he was. You shiver at the memory of the big blue guy, and you reach up subconsciously to touch your neck where he choked you.

Maybe you should have got checked out by a doctor, but you feel fine.

Just a little traumatized is all.

“You sure you’re alright?” Ziros asks, laying the back of his hand on your forehead as he leans in, studying your face.

You blush. “What—what are you doing?”

“Checking if you have a fever,” he says like it’s obvious.

“Hey. We have thermometers for that these days, you know.”

“You humans and your unnecessary technology.” He shakes his head, pulling away—apparently satisfied that you’re not about to keel over and die. “What’s next? The moon?”

“ Um .”

Should you tell him?

“What?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind, let’s go. I’m starving.”

Maybe you’ll tell him about the moon landings later.

But for now, your first priority is your stomach. Your very empty stomach. You decided not to make the one-ingredient pancakes after all, and instead you head downstairs with Ziros to grab a couple premade lunches at the convenience store beneath your building on the way out.

Unfortunately, the cashier today is the last person you hoped to see.

He’s around your age, give or take a year or two, and every time you’re in, he always asks way too many personal questions.

He pauses before ringing you up. With a frown at Ziros, he asks, “And this is…?”

You glance up at your magical hot book boyfriend. What should you call him? You could just say his name is ‘Z’, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what the cashier is asking.

Maybe you should just say he’s a friend.

But before you can say anything, Ziros answers for you.

“Her boyfriend,” he says, slinging an arm protectively—and maybe slightly possessively—around your shoulders.

Wait.

Boyfriend!?

You shoot him a look, but he’s too busy glaring at the cashier to notice.

“Boyfriend?” the cashier repeats, frowning at Ziros’ arm around your shoulders. And if you’re not mistaken, he looks a little envious. Like maybe he wants to be the one with his arm around your shoulders. “June never told me she has a boyfriend.”

You wince and cringe at the same time. First of all, you never told the cashier your name, so he must have picked it up off your credit card.

It’s…a little weird.

To say the least.

“He’s just my roommate,” you say reflexively, trying to shrug out from under Ziros’ arm before this gets any more awkward. But Ziros is too strong, pinning you in place.

“A roommate?” The cashier asks, finally ringing up your lunches. “In that tiny apartment?”

Wow, nosy and judging.

Also—wait—how does he know how tiny your apartment is!? Creepy…

“Roommates with benefits,” Ziros adds with a smug smirk, and now you swear he’s doing this on purpose to get to the cashier.

How does Ziros even know what ‘with benefits’ means? Must be a magic thing. The thing where words just come to him.

The cashier glares, finally handing over your food as Ziros tightens his arm around your shoulders.

“Here’s your receipt,” he says, and you swear you can still feel his glare following Ziros all the way out the door.

Wow.

That was…weird.

And Ziros still hasn’t removed his arm from around your shoulders. Not that you really mind. There’s something safe and warm about his arm around your shoulders.

A warmth that echoes through your body as you step outside.

It’s a nice day out, so you head to a park bench near the street corner to eat. Only then does he finally let go.

“Why did you say you’re my boyfriend?” You ask once you sit down.

“Oh, I don’t know.” His smirk grows into a smug grin. “I seem to remember you put my name in your phone as ‘Hot Book Boyfriend’.”

You freeze midway through unboxing your sandwich.

Heat rushes to your face.

Oh. My. God.

“You…you saw that? How did you see that?”

Ziros just laughs as he digs into his food. “How could I not? I possessed your phone. It was all right there.”

A small group of pedestrians passes by on the street, and you wait until they’re gone before you whisper, embarrassed, “ That was just a joke, you know. I was just messing around .”

“ Suuuure ,” he says. “And that kiss was just a joke, too.”

You blush.

“It was.”

He just laughs, going back to eating. Like he doesn’t believe you.

And he shouldn’t.

Because it was supposed to be a joke.

But now…you absently touch your lips, the memory still haunting you. The good kind of haunting.

That kiss was no joke.

Ziros

There was something off about that cashier.

He knew too much. I don’t know how much he and the little human have talked, but she seemed tense around him.

Like he knows more about her than she wants.

I’m still thinking about that interaction as she leads us through a pair of sliding doors into a big, boxy store full of clothing and housewares.

I’m not really sure how currency works these days, but it sure seems clothing is more easily attainable than it used to be. It’s just everywhere . Racks and racks of the stuff.

Do the humans just churn it out?

And it’s all so…I glance at a row of mannequins wearing the tiniest pajamas yet.

Even tinier than the ones she has at home.

They must be pajamas. I don’t know what else they could be. The plastic mannequin is wearing a tiny top made of two triangles tied together with string, paired with an equally tiny bottom.

Maybe it’s underwear.

There’s no way someone would wear that out in public, right?

Then again. Maybe the humans have loosened up a lot since I was last awake. My head spins with the weight of all the years lost. I feel like I’ve been through a time warp.

“This way,” the human says, grabbing my arm and steering me into a giant metal box lined with mirrors on all the walls. An elevator , I realize as the word comes to me. “We’re going up.”

“In that? ” I grimace as the doors slide shut behind us with a pained clatter. “Don’t tell me there are no stairs in this building.”

I don’t like this.

I can’t see what’s going on outside, or what’s moving us, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Humans invent the strangest, most dangerous things.

And at first I’m sure it’s just me, but this thing is taking ages to go anywhere.

And then the gears make a grinding noise.

And stop.

And the weak little human looks at me, sheer panic in her eyes. Like she expects me to do something.

“What?” I ask, folding my arms. “Does getting in the big metal box of death not seem like such a good idea now, human?”