16 - ATHENA
At first, I was skeptical. Worried Blossom’s insane plot might worsen the precarious situation with Arachne, but now, several days in? It was clearly working.
Our post-murder make out session was proof. Even despite her running from me at the end, it topped the memories of the stairwell.
Which was why I went no contact after our run-in. Zet and the Nymph insisted I keep a distance.
However, the next phase of this scheme meant I had to go on the date with a femme Arachne couldn’t stand.
I wasn’t looking forward to meeting Candice of Candy’s Clothes. The fashion house wasn’t anywhere near the status of Spun, but the Nymph was adamant that this particular femme would piss Arachne off the most.
That was the only cause for my wide grin as I stepped out of the hovercar to greet the gathered press outside the restaurant. To really lay it on thick, Blossom forced me to wear one of Candice’s designs; a sequined scratchy number I would never have been caught in otherwise.
I knew Arachne was already on premises as I waved toward the flashing cameras. It was only a matter of time before she noticed this ‘coincidence.’ Then my date found me.
Zet’s only description of Candice was that she was a Pixie with obnoxious wings; they failed to mention she was of the furry variety. The rare fae with permanent, blanket-like attachments to her arms; the kind who couldn’t fly without momentum.
On Earth, I knew humans called similar animals, flying squirrels; but at least their bodies matched their arms… Unlike Candice. “Oh my acorn, I still can’t believe you asked me out,” she shrilled.
I clung to my forced smile but it probably had become a grimace.
She happened to be wearing the exact same sequin mini as myself. You must look ridiculous if she looks like that. It was difficult to hide my cringe from the cameras as she lunged at me, lips first.
The only reason I didn’t fly back ten feet was because I caught a little spider’s glare through the window.
Showtime .
Candice tasted like sour tobacco and my tongue would need scrubbing after. But when we withdrew, and made our way inside, hand-in-sweaty-hand, the palpable rage lining Arachne’s gorgeous face was better than I could’ve hoped for.
The way she dragged Blossom— who was cackling —past us and out the door, seemingly abandoning their food mid-meal, was also validating.
Arachne couldn’t even stand to watch me with someone else.
My stomach was doing somersaults over it.
Now you just have to sit through what will likely be one of the worst dates of your life.