12. The Hot Guy Takes Care of You
12
The Hot Guy Takes Care of You
You
“What are you doing!?” You ask with a yelp as the ground vanishes from beneath your feet.
“Taking you home,” he says matter-o’-factly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It’s a long way back—” you start to say, but your protest trails into the wind.
He’s fast.
Really fast.
It’s kinda a handy skill to have, and you can’t help but feel awe as your apartment building blurs into focus in front of you not two minutes later.
You’re expecting him to set you down, but he just carries you silently up the stairs. Your heart hammers in your chest.
What is he doing!?
Not that you mind.
You’re still shaking. Badly.
A middle-aged woman steps to the side as she sees him carrying you up, and you blush, muttering an apology, but she just laughs, waving you on.
“Have a good night!” She calls in a cheery voice, like she’s probably assumed you just had too much to drink and your nice boyfriend is carrying you home.
You blush harder. You’re never going to be able to leave your apartment again. Not without hiding your face in shame.
But Hot Book Guy carries you all the way to your front door, setting you down outside only long enough for you to unlock it.
Then you scoops you back up, a determined grimace on his face as he carries you to the kitchen table and sets you down on the edge.
“Don’t move,” he says, disappearing to your bathroom.
What just happened?
He returns with a damp washcloth, kneeling in front of you. What is he—
“ Humans ,” he mutters, gently lifting your left leg. And—oh God.
Glass .
Your knees are embedded with shards of glinting glass.
How did you not feel it!? You must be in shock.
“You’re so easily breakable. Is this going to kill you?” He asks, like he genuinely thinks it might. “Hold still.”
“I think I’ll live,” you manage, grimacing and glancing away, expecting it to hurt.
But it doesn’t hurt. There’s a slight sting when he removes each piece, but other than that, you can barely feel it.
It’s the kind of thing you’d have expected to take several minutes, but he’s finished in seconds.
“Done,” he says, standing up. “But don’t move yet.”
He tosses the glass in the trash, gently cleaning the wounds with your washcloth. At any other time, you might have protested that he’s staining it, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
It’s all so overwhelming.
And you’re relieved just to be alive.
Slowly, the events of the evening are starting to arrange themselves in your mind, and your head spins all over again. You feel shaky and cold and hungry and like you might fall over.
The feeling of free-fall still rises up around you, even though you’re on solid ground—well, table .
“You’re shaking,” Hot Book Guy observes, turning your arms over to check them for stray glass. “How do I fix it?”
“I don’t know. Time, I guess.” You slide down from the table, kicking your high heels off and heading to the kitchen to boil water for tea. “I think I just need to wind down for a bit. Maybe take a shower, get in my PJs.”
Hot Book Guy
Damn it all.
I hate this.
She’s back in those insane little pajamas that I actually don’t hate even though I should, and now she’s just sitting there shivering with a blanket wrapped over her shoulders.
And I hate not being able to fix it.
And I hate that I hate it.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care. It’s just that my life is tied to hers. My magic is getting all confused.
That’s all.
And I thought I’d have more time before my past caught up. But looks like all those years I spent locked away, my enemies were just waiting for a chance to strike.
And to make it worse—
How the hell did I get myself bound to such a weak, trusting, naive little human?!
She may have sorceress blood, but she couldn’t hunt my kind if she tried. She’d be lucky if she could take down a skaddler.
I can’t let her out of my sight.
If I do, who knows when the next one will strike.
Enemies. Monsters. Enemies who happen to be monsters. She’s in danger everywhere she turns.
What am I gonna do with her?
I glance over at where she sits at her kitchen table, hunched over her glowing phone. She’s been staring at that thing for a good half hour, watching videos of the fight.
At least the last of the glass is gone. Her skin is clean and bandaged about as well as it can be. Damn humans . They take so long to heal.
And I used so much energy just saving her.
But, hey. Her apartment is full of food. And she’s cute.
Wait— what ?
I shake my head, rummaging through her cabinets for more strange, crunchy things I’ve never had before.
I don’t actually care about her.
It’s just the stupid magical bond making me feel all sorts of things. Because I’d never feel that way about a human.
And definitely not a weak little one like her.
You
You groan, staring down at MeTube.
Random Internet Commenter: dude that’s totally fake, my mom could do better CG than that
Another Random Commenter: Bruhh i know right? idk what kind of publicity stunt this is, but it’s so cheesy. Is this for the new Marble movie???
And Yet Another: Hey my aunt lives down the street and she saw the whole thing from her window and it’s totally real! I’m serious! It really happened!
If only everybody thought it was a publicity stunt for a new movie. Then you could relax.
Instead, you’re going to have to avoid social media for a while. If only you could avoid real life.
What are the chances someone will recognize you from the video of a glowing man flying through the air while carrying a screaming lady in a little black dress?
Maybe you’ll take that dress out of rotation for a bit, just in case.
You start to set your phone down, but before you can click it off, a new message appears.
Corrine: Hey, sorry. I heard your date had to cancel.
Corrine: Don’t worry, I’m sure he wasn’t worth it, anyway. We’ll get you a better one.
You stare at it.
What?
So Vincentius was never supposed to be your blind date in the first place. That must mean he tracked you down and figured out a way to prevent the real guy from showing, all to lure Hot Book Guy out.
“Just how many enemies do you have?” You ask Hot Book Guy where he leans against your kitchen counter, tipping the last of a bag of potato chips into his mouth.
He shrugs. “How many chips did I just eat?”
“That many enemies? That’s not exactly comforting.”
He shoots you a smirk. “Why? You afraid, little human? Don’t worry about me.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“No?” He crosses the room, slinging an arm around your shoulders. He’s freshly showered, and he smells good. Way too good. There’s a comforting warmth emanating from him, something you can’t quite place. It makes you want to breathe in.
Maybe it’s the magic.
Or it’s your detergent, because he’s wearing your largest pair of sweatpants and an old black T-shirt you found in one of your drawers. It was the best you could do, considering he didn’t exactly appear with a backpack full of clothes. And you weren’t going to just let him hang out around your apartment forever without ever taking a shower.
And…strangely, the outfit actually looks good on him. Somehow .
Though you’re still going to have to buy him some more man clothes. Or maybe magic them up—if only you knew how to do that on command.
He feels strangely comforting at your side, the strength of his arm around you like a shield, the heat of his body melting through your fear. “Don’t worry, little human,” he says. “Just stay close to me, and you’ll be fine.”
He slides his arm off your shoulders, tilting your jaw up toward him as he leans in. Heat prickles under your skin.
He’s so close, he could kiss you.
Is he just messing with you again? Surely he is.
He’s smirking confidently, like he’s just playing around. Like he wants you to think he’s about to kiss you. But…two can play at that game.