4. Overeager puppy-dog vibes
OVEREAGER PUPPY-DOG VIBES
Ro
“What I’m hearing is that you’re struggling with a new obsession: your thoughts of this woman, and a new compulsion: your urge to stalk her.”
Yikes.
June, my therapist, really isn’t pulling any punches today.
“I, uh…” I ruffle the short hair on the back of my head, then drop my hand back to my lap. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?” June says, her head tilted and a tiny smile quirking one side of her mouth.
“Fine. That’s correct. I have a new obsession and compulsion and…”
June raises her eyebrows, nodding her head for me to continue. She’s always patient, never rushing me when I struggle to admit a truth I don’t want to face or find words that elude me.
“It’s stronger than any of the other urges I’ve had. The demon…” I grimace. “He really likes her.”
June jots a couple notes on the yellow lined notepad in her lap, then looks back up at me.
“We’re going to come back to that, but first, is it okay if I share an observation with you?”
“Of course.”
That is why I’m here after all, for her help.
“I’ve noticed in the couple months we’ve been working together that you refer to the demon as being separate from you, like another entity. Is your inner demon not you?”
“He’s…” I trail off, gaping at her. I have no idea how to answer that.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Is he?”
June chuckles. “I think only you have that answer. I wasn’t trying to lead you anywhere, I was genuinely asking.”
“Right,” I murmur, turning to stare out the window.
She lets me stew for a few moments, but I shake my head and shrug. When I turn back to her with an apologetic smile, she meets it.
“We’ll come back to it, after you’ve had some time to think about it,” she says.
“Homework?” I ask.
June grins. “Homework.”
Then she looks back at her notebook.
“So, this new, stronger urge. Based on the skills you’ve learned so far, what have you already tried?” she asks.
And with that, we’re off. I relax into the sofa, letting her confidence wash over me as we figure out how I’m going to continue my journey toward being a good person when all I want to do is stalk a mysterious woman whose name I don’t even know.
I manage to resist following her—my silver-haired obsession—for a couple of days after meeting with June, and it probably helps that I don’t see her anywhere.
When she doesn’t show up to the club for the fourth night in a row though, I’m feeling increasingly restless.
It’s all I can do to stop myself from walking by her apartment building on my way to and from work.
I’ve taken to reciting my mantra like it’s my only link to sanity, which still has nothing about stalking included, despite my therapist thinking it may be a good idea to revise it.
Denial and avoidance at its finest.
It also doesn’t help that it’s been over a week now since I’ve gotten laid, and that’s definitely some sort of record.
I can’t remember the last time I went this long without having sex.
It was probably when I was in high school, but even then, my parents (being sex demons) encouraged me to explore my sexuality.
Frustratingly, my dick doesn’t seem to have interest in anyone besides the elusive, silver-haired woman I’m supposed to be keeping my distance from.
Quite the conundrum.
I’m whipping up a cocktail and contemplating drinking on the job in the hopes that will help me relax, when she slips through the door into the club.
My lips pull into a grin and my spine snaps straight, the demon inside me on alert.
I quickly pour the cocktail and pass it across the bar, not even bothering with garnish in my haste to serve her.
I bound over, not caring one bit if I look like an overeager puppy.
She slides onto a stool and flicks her long hair over her shoulder. Then I notice the dark circles under her eyes, the way her hair seems to have lost its luster, the tense hunch of her shoulders. She looks exhausted.
“Hey,” I say, putting on my prettiest bartender voice. “What can I get for ya?”
“Tequila,” she says.
“Gonna need to see an ID with that,” I reply, deciding a little snooping won’t hurt anyone. I nudge my lip ring with my tongue as I wait. The demon preens when her eyes flick to it, then the piercing in my eyebrow, before returning to meet my gaze.
She purses her lips, but pulls the card out of her bra and passes it to me. My stupid dick throbs at the thought of touching something that was pressed against her breast. I feel like a horny teenager again who has no idea how to talk to a pretty girl.
I look down at her ID, confirming the address I followed her to last week, and finally learning her name.
“Alorra Seren,” I say, rolling her name along my tongue. It’s like a sweet treat in my mouth, making me salivate for more. I pass the card back to her and do some quick math. “Twenty-eight. Checks out. Triple order of tequila, coming right up!”
I grin, but she doesn’t return it, instead eyeing me with apathy.
I hate that, so I decide it’s a personal challenge.
I set her three shot glasses in front of her, but don’t fill them yet. Instead, I turn back to the bar, surveying my options. I get to work, grabbing a clear bottle from the shelves as well as a couple ingredients from below. I measure and pour, shake, then strain my concoction into a glass.
Finally, I turn back with her tequila. I fill the shot glasses lined up in front of her, then set the sparkly purple drink I created right next to them.
Alorra pauses with one hand outstretched toward the row of shots. Her eyes flick up to mine, a dark grey-blue color, and my heart skips a beat. Will she accept my offering? I swear even my inner demon is holding his breath.
Her gaze flits between mine and the gay as hell purple drink I set in front of her. Her hand slowly moves away from the shots and toward the glass as I watch with bated breath. I bite my lip ring, stifling a grin as she picks it up.
Alorra sniffs it first, then she eyes it, skeptical, before turning her narrowed gaze on me.
Her eyes have captured mine, daring me to look away as she takes a sip. Thanks to this unspoken threat, I catch the moment of surprise and pleasure that flits across her face before she manages to conceal it.
I grin in triumph. My chest puffs out on a relieved breath, and tension I didn’t realize I was carrying loosens from my shoulders.
Then the beautiful Alorra Seren scowls, sets the drink down, and glares at me.
“What is this?” she demands, her voice husky and low and… weary?
My smile wavers. “It’s a moonlight cocktail.”
She stares at me, so I swallow and continue. “Gin, creme de violette, lemon juice, simple syrup… and uh, edible glitter.”
She blinks, but her stare is resolute. “Why?”
“Because,” I falter, sensing again that any hint of sympathy or caring will send her running. “I don’t know. I just wanted to try making it and thought you’d give it a go.”
Her eyes soften the barest amount, and the scowl lifts when she turns curious eyes back to the fabulous lavender cocktail swirling with sparkles in front of her.
“Is it bad?” I ask, wondering if I misjudged the ingredients.
She shrugs, but then she takes another sip.
The demon howls with glee, rumbling in my chest and I grin again, straightening back up. Her lips twitch when she sees my reaction, and I’d bet money that’s the closest she’s gotten to smiling in days. That’s a win if I ever saw one.
Now I need to learn how to turn that twitch into a full-on smile.
“You gonna finish those shots, or…?”
She pretends to glare at me. It’s adorable. We’re basically friends now, so I don’t take it to heart.
“I haven’t decided yet,” she says.
I shrug, then snag one and throw it back.
“Hey!” she shrieks, the most animated I’ve seen her yet, and a number of eyes turn toward us.
I bellow a laugh, waving away the attention when she huffs. Then she grabs the second shot and downs it with a grimace.
“Ah,” she says, clicking her tongue. “That’s not great after whatever this purple monstrosity is.”
“Hey!” It’s my turn to protest with a laugh. “I’ll have you know that so-called monstrosity is my pride and joy creation.”
“Oh, really?” She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “And why is that?”
“Because it almost got you to smile.”
To my absolute delight, her cheeks turn pink. Of course, it’s accompanied by another scowling glare, but that’s still another win in my book.
Three points to Ro.
“And now I’m winning,” I say, propping my elbow on the bar and my chin in my palm.
I didn’t know I could grin so wide when a look of outraged consternation finally overtakes the lethargic apathy that had been clinging to her.
She stares at me and I hold her gaze, not letting my smile falter.
Her entire body transforms, the defensive tension shifting to an upright, quiet confidence, her blank expression turning to wary interest as her mind tries to make sense of my words.
“Winning what?” she finally demands.
“This, of course.” I gesture between us and confusion mars her stoic facade.
She shakes her head and knocks back the last shot.
“You’re something else,” she mutters under her breath.
I hear it, though I’m not sure if I was supposed to.
“You’ve got that right,” I say with a wink.
Her lips twitch again and she turns her back to me, leaning against the bar as she looks out over the dance floor.
I take the opportunity to catch up on orders, thankful I’m not working the bar alone tonight.
When I glance back over at her, she’s raising the so-called purple monstrosity to her blood red lips for another sip.
When Alorra swivels back to the bar again, I’m ready. She seems to debate her next move, glancing from the dance floor to the exit, so I step in before she decides to leave again.
“Can I take you out on a date?” I ask.
She stares at me, her steely gaze holding me hostage. I straighten my shoulders and do my best to present a ‘I’m a good, safe, definitely-not-a-demon-who-wants-to-stalk-you’ facade.
After what must be at least a couple years, she finally speaks.
“Why should I let you?” she says.
I was not prepared for that response. A ‘yes’ would have been fantastic. ‘No’ I can deal with. But this? I gape at her, feeling like a fish out of water as I open my mouth, but no words come out.
She shrugs one shoulder, throws back the rest of her purple drink, then sets the empty glass on the bar and slides off the barstool. Without a backward glance—again—she leaves.
I can’t tear my eyes away from her. Each blink takes her further from me, until she’s out the door and it’s swinging shut behind her.
“Tough luck, man.” Finn claps me on the back as he walks by.
I shake my head, a disorienting jumble of confusion and delight tumbling around my head. I turn my back to the bar and lean against it. Then my hand sneaks into my pocket and I pull out a delicate silver chain.
It’s simple, with a few tiny round beads dotted along it, the interconnecting links so minuscule I can barely make them out. I’m lucky I managed to swipe it from her wrist without breaking it, or without her noticing. So much for no more stealing…
Alorra.
I roll her name around my tongue again, whispering it to myself. It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t quite seem to fit her. I tilt my head, inspecting the bracelet as I contemplate her name, Alorra.
Alorra Seren.
The demon is a satisfied rumble in my chest.
A name and a stolen trinket in the same night.
I resist the urge to lift it to my nose to see if I can catch any trace of her on it, and my lips quirk as I curl my fingers around the dainty bracelet.
Then I drape it over my wrist and fiddle with the clasp until it snaps into place, holding my arm out to admire my newest treasure.
The rest of the shift passes with dull tedium as I work on autopilot filling drinks, wiping the bar, swiping cards, until finally I’m free. The world kicks back into focus and I make a beeline for the door.
June would be disappointed, but I don’t even try to curb the urge as I stride with single-minded determination down the sidewalk to Alorra’s apartment. I lean against a wide tree across the road, my eyes fixed on her dark window.
My leg starts to bounce when I don’t see any movement, and fire lights at my fingertips.
I douse it, not wanting the light to give me away, and finger the silver chain on my wrist instead.
Finally, a shadow of movement stirs behind her curtain, and I loose a breath of relief knowing she got home safe.
This knowledge, plus her bracelet against my skin, settles my inner demon and allows me to wander home with a jaunt in my step and not even a lingering fancy about lighting anything on fire.