Chapter Thirty-Eight • Wake Up • Lillith
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“Girl, you have chow mein on your boob.”
I crack my eyes open to see Wren leaning over me, looking mildly disappointed.
The sun slants into the house through a crack in the curtains we closed when Damien decided to make the night a marathon of making me come.
I feel like I’m hungover, but I don’t think that’s realistically from the two glasses of the wine.
I think I’m feeling the absence of constant oxytocin from Damien torturing me with too many orgasms.
“What time is it?” I groan.
Damien’s tangled around me, I can feel the incessant press of his morning wood against my bare thigh. The blanket he grabbed from the sofa is draped over our lower halves.
“It’s almost noon, girl,” she says. “Satoshi texted me. He wants to talk when he gets here to pick up Damien and—seriously, girl. Aren’t you supposed to do like... chocolate sauce and strawberries and shit when you fuck? Chinese food doesn’t exactly come across as erotic.”
“Then you have never had a crab rangoon,” I slur, looking down at Damien, sleeping on my chest.
I tap him a little. “Damien, baby. Baby, wake up.”
He wraps his arms tighter around me, lifting his head just enough to bite onto my nipple. I yelp. Yes, I’ve danced naked under the moons enough with Wren to not be embarrassed by her seeing me naked. That doesn’t mean she needs a front row seat to Damien enjoying sleepy nipple play.
My yelp wakes him and he glares at me, then seems to register Wren’s presence.
“Whoa, what the fuck,” he says, immediately protecting my modesty by pulling the blanket up over my chest. “Bro. Do you guys ever, I don’t know, call ahead or whatever?”
“Satoshi said they’re picking you up in like twenty minutes. I thought you’d be... well, at least clothed.”
“Shit,” he groans, dropping his head back. “Alright. I’ll get up.”
Wren nods, but then stays there. He looks around the room for a moment. “Uh... Could you, like, fuck off for a second? Respectfully?”
“Oh. Right,” she says.
Something occurs to me. “Wait. Where’s Aemon?”
“He said it smelled like ‘human fluids’, so he stayed downstairs in the shop,” she says.
“Okay, but you couldn’t take the hint and stay there too?” Damien gripes.
“Like I said. I thought you guys would at least be clothed. And... hells... on her bed or something. You guys really just fuck on the floor like animals?”
“Among other places,” I say, grinning. “Should I give you a tour?”
“Ew, no. Just come downstairs when you can,” she says, rolling her eyes and leaving my apartment.
Damien and I take a quick shower when she’s gone.
And it really is quick. Purely utilitarian.
I can’t stand the idea of Aemon smelling sex on us, and Damien can’t stand the idea of feeling gross during a seven-hour travel day to New York.
I ask about him packing and he tells me he’s just going to buy clothes when he arrives.
I sometimes forget that he kind of has money. Like, Real Money. Grown Up money.
We stumble down the stairs and when we do, Aemon gives us both an unimpressed stare. “Thanks for stinking up our apartment,” he says to me.
“That’s my apartment. You are... like an obligate pest that shares it with me.”
“Are you equating me to a rat?” Aemon drawls.
“No. Rats are way cuter. More like a cockroach.”
“Unnecessarily mean,” he says sourly.
I unlock the shop and sit in my high-chair behind the counter. Damien picks up a singing bowl and starts messing with it. “So, what brings you today, Wren?” he asks.
“Ah, well. Satoshi said he wanted to ask me something before he goes. And then Aemon and I found some things while we were digging in my archives last night. Some ideas for handling this whole thing.” She gestures vaguely at the room.
“Shit, really? What ideas?”
“You got five hours?” Wren asks dryly.
“No...” Damien answers sullenly.
“I’ll call you tonight and give you an update, babe,” I say. “Promise.”
He presses his mouth into a line, the skin around his piercings blanching. Then he glares at Aemon. “No weird sex shit.”
“Coming from a man who managed to incorporate Chinese food into his copulation, that means almost nothing,” Aemon retorts.
“It’s like none of you assholes have heard of aftercare. Do you know how much energy orgasms require? It’s called carbo-loading.”
“Too much information,” Wren says.
“You saw him naked,” I say.
Aemon’s gaze whips to her, a frown on his face. Wren sees me clock it, but looks away when I meet her eyes. “I saw him half naked, and covered in a blanket,” she says.
I’m about to ask about it when the bell at my door rings and the guys file in. Oren smiles at me as soon as I see him. He approaches and pulls me into a hug. Sitting on my bar stool puts me at about chest level with him. “Thanks for talking some sense into him for me,” he says.
“Ah—mm—sure,” I mumble, trying not to sound too flustered. I peek over at Damien as Oren leaves his arm draped over my shoulders. Damien is giving me the smuggest little smirk I’ve ever seen.
“Should we delay a day, baby? We could—” Damien starts.
“NO. DELAYS!” Roxie says as they bursts into the place.
Oren sighs and when I look up at him, he’s looking down at me. “Sorry, love. You’ll have to wait ‘til we return,” Oren says.
I’m going to die. Just perish. These men are going to be the death of me.
Satoshi, for once, is subdued when he comes in. Wren sidles to Aemon’s side, crossing her arms. I squint between everyone, wondering what the fuck happened that has created this weird energy in the room. Satoshi looks between Wren and Aemon.
“Hey, Tosh,” she says.
“I thought we were going to talk,” Satoshi says, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“Sure. Talk,” she says.
“I meant in private.”
“We could have talked in private. If you called me. Or texted me. You know. Like how I called and texted you?”
Satoshi’s face darkens with an embarrassed flush. He meets my gaze for a second, then looks away. “Forget it,” he says. He turns on his heel and leaves the store immediately.
Oren sighs. “Little walking shit-stirrer,” he says. He pats my shoulder and pecks the top of my head. “See you when we come back, doll.”
Then he leaves as casually as he came. I give Damien a pleading look and he laughs. “Your birthday’s coming up, right babe?” he asks.
“Damien.”
He starts the singing bowl going as Fletcher looks around the shop. Looking everywhere but me.
Evil, evil man.
“Damien, I need you to look at this packing list and make sure we got everything you need for the East Coast and Midwest stops. If not, I need to call your sponsors and see what we can get done,” Roxie says.
Damien nods, walking over to them as they open up an iPad and start tapping on the screen. They look a little frazzled. Their usually tidy hair is still styled, but looks a little frizzy and thrown together. I listen for a bit before Fletcher approaches the counter with an item that surprises me.
“Is this for sale?” he asks in his chipper Irish accent.
The question is even stranger than the item he grabbed. It’s something I keep in the shop for customers from The Buried City. The small bottle of white, iridescent scales comes from a fish found in the ponds and rivers underground. It’s a powerful ingredient when used in glamour magic.
To most people, it’s just an odd trinket. I bespelled it to look unappealing, or even neutral, to anyone who isn’t seeking it. So... Why did Fletcher grab it?
“It... is...” I say cautiously.
He shrinks under my gaze. “They’re just kind of cool,” he says stiffly.
I look down at the scales and...well yeah they are kind of cool.
They look like they’re made of opal but are just as delicate as flower petals.
Maybe my magic is waning because of the ichor, or maybe I need to redo some of my workings, since I technically died recently.
Maybe the spells I’ve done around the shop have guttered out because of that.
I suppose it would keep me busy while Damien’s gone.
“Yeah, but you know what? You could just have them, Fletcher,” I say with a smile.
“No. I insist. I have to give you something in exchange,” he says.
“I really don’t need it,” I say.
He shifts between his feet, looking mildly uncomfortable.
I huff a laugh and shake my head. “Listen. Just make sure Damien’s alright while you guys are away, and we’ll call it even. Okay?”
“A-alright,” he says. “Deal.” He picks up the jar and slips it into his pocket. “Thanks, Lillith. I’ll make sure he behaves.”
Somehow, I believe that he really will.
Fletcher leaves the shop to join Satoshi and Oren. Aemon and Wren have gone off somewhere. Then it’s just Damien and Roxie. I listen in on their conversation, getting a bit of a thrill listening to Damien talking shop.
“Yeah. Going to need a resonance head for the snare, and honestly, the crash is feeling a little weak. It’s starting to crack at the edge, so maybe we could have them send a backup of that one too.”
“And they’re sending a drum tech. Are you going to be alright with training him?” Roxie says.
“Yeah, that sounds alright,” he says with a nod. “Man, what a trip. Getting real techs?”
“I know. You guys are really doing this thing now.”
I smile as they wrap up a few final loose ends. Finally, Roxie gives me a quick hug over the counter. “I’ll give you guys a sec to say bye. You been feeling okay?”
“Yeah,” I say smiling as I squeeze them. “Thank you.”
“Okay, good. I promise we won’t keep you guys apart for too long,” they say.
I nod and Roxie hurries out, looking like they have eight hundred things going on in their mind. Damien comes up to the counter then, taking both my hands in one of his. He squeezes them and cups my face with his free hand.
“I’m gonna miss you like hell,” he says.
“Me too,” I say.
He leans down and kisses my lips, still raw and sore from the night before. “Be good while I’m gone, alright? I’ll give you a heads up each day of what we’re up to and let you know when I can call.”
“I’ll do my best to be available,” I promise him.
He smiles and kisses me again, this one a little more lingering than the first. Our tongues meet briefly before he deepens the kiss. He captures my lower lip between his teeth and tugs for just a moment before he parts. “I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” I say on a breath.
And it’s a little tragic when he backs away. I can feel my heart going with him as he walks backwards as far as he can before he has to turn and exit the shop.
There goes my whole world. Carried in the pocket of his distressed jeans. I hear the shutting doors of the hatchback then watch as it passes the windows of the shop. I sigh, cupping my chin in my hands. I think about texting him, then think that would be stupid.
But my phone buzzes on the counter, his picture coming up on the screen with a phone call. I huff a laugh and pick it up.
“Forget something?” I ask.
“No. I mean—well—kind of,” he says. “I feel like I do my best work when I’m cursing the distance between us, you know?”
“What?” I say.
“Like—okay. I asked you to be my girlfriend when I was away in San Diego,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say as Oren says something about it being embarrassing that he did that.
“And then I told you I loved you for the first time when I was on my way to Big Bear.”
“I technically said it first,” I say.
“Implied it,” he debates. “But don’t derail me babe.”
I think I hear Roxie say, “Let the man cook!”
“Okay,” I say chuckling. “What’s next. Should we get a puppy together?”
“And hurt Gloam that way? Not a chance, babe,” he says. “Nah, I was just wondering. How about we make that whole aura sharing thing official?”
“It’s pretty official already,” I say. “Irreversible, and all that.”
He’s silent on the other side of the line. Then the van is also mysteriously quiet. It dawns on me then, what he’s saying. What he means.
“Wait... Damien... are you—”
“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s keep up this whole ‘do major relationship milestones over the phone’ thing.”
“Damien... We’ve only been together for like... a few months,” I say.
“Lillith. I’ve never been more certain of someone than I am of you,” he says. “Come on. What do you say? Want to be a stereotype and get married to a dysfunctional rockstar?”
My face hurts from smiling so much.
“Oh...kay?” I say.
“Okay?” he asks. “Is that a yes?”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing. “Yeah. I’ll marry you.”
Cheers peal out so loudly from the phone that I have to pull it away from my ear. I realize he had me on speaker phone this whole time.
And all of his bandmates are celebrating with him. Celebrating us. My heart feels impossibly full. Like it might burst.
His voice suddenly sounds closer. Clearer.
“I promise I’ll do it properly when I’m back home. You deserve a real proposal, and I’ll give that to you,” he says, low. Intimate. “But... I don’t know. Car rides feel like good luck, these days. You know?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”