Ten
Elias
“You going to get another visit from your new friend today?” Amy adds emphasis on the word friend , and I roll my eyes.
“Not that I’m aware of. He was probably in the neighborhood and wanted some coffee.”
“How do you two know each other anyway?” She perches herself on the corner of the counter, spreading her brightly painted pink nails in front of her.
I turn on the registers, not sure how to answer her question. Clearly, he isn’t human, and it’s not like she isn’t aware of monsters’ magical abilities. She’s dated a few in Stonehowe— where she currently lives due to the job she took two years ago. It was one of the first few towns open to monsters, and where the man who created the portals was from. “It’s kind of a funny story. He’s . . .” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “He’s my sleep-paralysis demon.” Using the word “my” to describe him feels righter than it should.
Her mouth parts. “Wait, what? That’s some meet-cute right there.”
“Meet-what?”
She gives me a bored look. “Meet-cute. Guy runs into another guy making him spill his coffee, then apologies profusely and offers him his shirt.”
Or in this case, hoodie. “Why didn’t you just say Hallmark movie because that’s exactly what you described.” I flip on the lights, moving to open the door. “And no, this is not . . . there was no meet-cute. There’s nothing cute about sleep paralysis and demons.” Except, that’s exactly what Arien is, in all his adorable forms.
“Whatever. I saw how close the two of you were and how he had that ‘please invite me in’ look on his face.”
Sputtering a laugh, I change the sign to open. “He did not, and you’re definitely overreaching like you always do.”
“Hey, I’m all for it. I want to see you happy again, and I swear I saw those lips fighting not to turn up when he was talking to you.”
“What happened to you trying to push me to talk to Brody?” I shoot her a look over my shoulder, carrying the chalkboard with the drinks menu out to the sidewalk while holding the door open with my foot.
“I wasn’t doing it because I think you two should get back together or anything. I was doing it because I know what good friends you two were before you started dating, and I hate watching you constantly pushing people away.”
“I didn’t push him away. He left on his own.” I walk back inside, letting the door swing shut behind me.
She presses her hands to her knees. “You only think that because you didn’t watch you lose yourself the way we did.”
“Look, he’s better off without me. You all are.”
“I disagree, and it’s going to take a lot more than you moping around feeling sorry for yourself for you to get rid of me.”
“I’ve done way worse than that, remember?” I flit my gaze to her, laying a hand on a random chair as I start to feel off balance.
“No. But what I do remember is an unfortunate event that occurred, which was no one’s fault and fully out of your control. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that stupid doctor who kept pumping you full of vitamins and telling you to do a couple of downward dog positions a day.”
“He wasn’t the one behind the wheel. I was. And can you please get your ass off my counter. People’s drinks and food orders go there.”
She mimics my words with her lips, jumping to the floor just as Ian enters. “Morning, everyone. It’s good to see you’re still here, Amy. How long you staying for? Elias is more social when you’re here.”
Amy walks behind the counter to collect a rag and spray bottle from my hands. “Only ’cause my big bro takes way too much joy in scolding me every chance he gets. And only until Saturday.”
“Too long if you ask me,” I deadpan, elbowing her side.
She sticks her tongue out. “See what I mean? You’re going to miss me when I’m gone, just watch. Especially when I make the best drinks your customers have ever had.”
“You are doing no such thing,” I say pointedly.
“This is going to be a fun day,” Ian chimes.
“Our ideas of fun are not the same,” I grumble and Amy laughs, wiping down where she was sitting.
We all fall quiet, eyes darting toward the door as the first customer walks in. I spend the next few hours keeping my sister away from the espresso machine and blenders. Ian shows her how she can help while not making me sprout more gray hair than I already have, and she bags all the wraps, along with pastries.
I keep watching the door, waiting for a cute purple demon to walk through. Waiting to see if he has this supposed “let me in” face my sister said he did. I think I’ve seen it before, when he asked all his questions—when he tried to get to know me better. Hours pass with him never showing, and as we’re closing up Amy suggests we go to a restaurant.
“Doesn’t matter to me where, as long as there’s food and alcoholic beverages.”
A high-pitched sound escapes my throat, and I steer her toward the bus stop. She yaps on about some guy she’s been chatting with through the Monster Match app and keeps showing me all her matches, knowing damn well I’m trying to pay attention to where we are so we don’t miss our stop.
We’re let off near a shopping mall and Amy walks ahead of me, suggesting we come back tomorrow to check out two stores near the restaurant we’re walking into. We’re led to a table right away . . . and Amy was serious about ordering alcohol. She skims the list on the menu and tells the waitress what she wants before she scurries away.
“So, Mom and Dad are having a party for their thirtieth anniversary and I want you to be there,” she says, as she reaches for the drink the waitress sets down. We order our food and as soon as the young lady is gone again, Amy repeats herself to ensure I heard her.
“Why haven’t they invited me themselves?”
“Mom said she was going to, but I wanted to talk to you before the invitation came.”
“I don’t know Ames.” I stare down at my folded hands in my lap. “I . . . I don’t know if I can step away from the coffee shop that long.”
“At least think about it. You know that I handle being around our annoying family better when you’re there.”
“Is Brody going to be there?”
She grows quiet for a minute, her hand freezing on her cup. “I think so. He and our parents are pretty close these days. It’s not like they have us living nearby, so I guess they see him as the closest thing they have to a son.”
Except he isn’t their son. He’s their son’s ex-boyfriend. I haven’t been in a room with the man for seven months, and I’m not sure I’m ready to be.
“Look.” Her eyes soften. “Who cares about him? I need you there, okay? Mom and Dad need you there. We all do.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say with an uncomfortable itch in my throat.
“That’s all I’m asking. Ian and that girl seem like they can handle you being away for a couple of days.”
I stifle a laugh. “You clearly haven’t worked with them enough then.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You have a whole month to figure it out.”
“Yeah. There is that.” Which isn’t as much time as she makes it sound like.
I’m thankful when she finally changes the subject, and after we’re done eating she mentions us needing snacks. We stop at a convenience store on the way home, carrying two bags full of stuff that will more than likely have me loosening my pants tomorrow.
“We have a whole fucking candy and drink store in here.”
“Good,” she says gleefully, entering my apartment first. I walk in after her, flicking on the lights, and she throws herself back on the couch, calling out shows for us to watch as I enter the bathroom.
“Oh, this one’s new. Something about the son breaking the law and the dad a lawyer trying to get him off the charge.”
“Yeah, go ahead and play it. I’ll be out in a minute.” As I’m standing in front of the toilet and zipping up my pants, I think about seeing Brody at my parents’ party and start swaying.
“This is a little awkward,” a sweet voice says from behind me. “You keep hallucinating during the strangest times.” He hasn’t been around long enough to see how much more awkward it can get. It’s the reason I haven’t masturbated in weeks. Orgasms also trigger my cataplexy and sometimes leave me in a short half-asleep state.
“Don’t worry, I’m turned around. Is your sister still here? If so, I’ll try to be quieter. You humans sure do bathe and go to the bathroom a lot.”
A flutter af excitement fills my stomach and I’m laughing in my head. He feels it too, doesn’t he? I swear I can feel him vibrate behind me, that light above his head blinking a bright blue as it shines in the reflection of the picture frame in front of me.
“ Shawshank Redemption ,” he says. “Wait . . . Die Hard . I saw that the other day when they were showing older movies at the dollar theater.”
So, he goes to the movies. Does he go alone? A tinge of jealousy grips my stomach when I imagine someone sitting beside him, holding his hand or pressed against his side.
I try to shove the thoughts away, but when he starts naming what movie he’s going to watch there next week they come back tenfold.
“Do you ever go to the theater? What about drive-ins? I wish we had those. Maybe I’ll look it up in six months if I end up moving here permanently.”
The room goes quiet as my hand twitches, and I fall forward, catching myself on the wall. Amy is watching me carefully with a questioning look on her face as I walk back into the living room. “That was way longer than a minute . . . and were you talking to yourself in there or is that a new way to get those bowels moving?”
“Please stop talking.” I walk toward her, sitting down on the couch and reaching for one of the bags.
“Not gonna happen. I bet it’ll get worse once I hit play too.”
And it does. Amy is one of those people who asks a million questions during shows and movies, forgetting I’ve never seen it before either. There are times I try to watch a movie before her so I can answer them, but that only works when I have some kind of prior notice.
On the fifth episode, Amy starts snoring, so I turn off the show and put on something more lighthearted, with humor— Click , one of Arien’s favorite Adam Sandler movies. When I’m trapped between the state of sleep and awake from laughing too hard, he shows up, curling up on the recliner—way too far away for my liking. He’s wearing a pink crop top and floral skirt, and as happy as I am that he has plenty of energy today, I kind of miss seeing him in nothing but my hoodie. Arousal spins inside me as I think about all the places it touches when it’s on his body, and I stay in a paralyzed state for even longer.
Arien looks my way, shrinking into himself. Fuck, he knows what I’m feeling. He can sense it, and I can’t stop it either. The heat in my groin intensifies when his legs spread, and I get a little peek at his soft cock resting between his legs under his skirt. My mouth is watering, and when he lifts his skirt a little higher . . . I’m grateful my sister moved to my room before he showed up.
He licks his lips, eyes going back to the movie, and his own arousal is on full display as he lifts his skirt higher. His eyes glow and his charms are flashing like crazy. All good colors. I want to touch him so badly—I want him to touch me—but he stays where he is, curling his legs up and adjusting his clothes as he starts to drift away.
I get up from the couch and pace the living room, shoving candy into my mouth. I can’t get how good he looked out of my head. Why even try when he feels like he belongs there. I rush into the bathroom and lock the door behind me, face flushed in the mirror as I pull out my cock. Closing my eyes, I see him on that recliner again, and this time he’s wrapping his fingers around his dripping, pretty purple shaft. I’m crawling forward to collect the salty drops on my tongue and second later I’m coming harder than I have in a long time.
My head goes hazy and I press my hands to the counter as my muscles go slack, cock still hanging out and cum covering my hands. He looks at me through the mirror. His cheeks are tinted and he wrings his shirt in his hands, eyes wild. “I didn’t expect this. But I guess I kind of brought it on. Can I touch you next time?” He bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. “No . . . I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. Why’s this so hard? It never is. I . . . I’ve never . . . This doesn’t ever happen, I promise. With you it’s like . . . like, I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
He slides a hand through his hair and steps closer to me. “I tried not to want you but doing all I can to make you feel good has become addicting, and I don’t know how to stop. I need to.” His words shake. “I’m breaking the rules. I don’t break rules. I don’t want to stop, though.”
Then don’t, I want to say. Touch me next time. Touch me now. I’ll deal with the guilt later. I’ll deal with everything bad that comes with being happy and free of my burdens later. But I want him now. I can’t explain it either. I didn’t think I could want more with someone again. And I don’t even know what kind of more I mean, just . . . more. More of him. More rules being broken.