CHAPTER 8
REMMIE
I must admit, other than the unwanted visits, this has been the best week I have had in a while.
Shade is weird and flirty and still a demon.
But he’s funny and sweet and listens to everything I have to say.
When was the last time someone cared about the difference between all-purpose flour to cake flour?
Or using unsalted butter verses salted butter!
I know I have Sharina, my only real friend.
But having someone next to me. Helping me. Even learning from me, has been a breath of fresh air. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s amazing to look at, hovering around me like a puppy waiting for head pats. It’s so adorable.
It has been difficult to keep my mind off of my golden assistant these past few days.
To be honest, I’d masturbated to the memory of his smile after day one.
We walk the line of new friends and flirty love interests daily.
He brushes up against me more and more, and the light flirting at the beginning has turned into small suggestions.
I try to ignore the tingling between my legs at the feel of Shade's tail on my body. Sometimes it rubs up my calf. Other times his tail wraps around my waist. He apologizes but I can tell he does it on purpose. I find myself wondering how much can he do with it? How deep can it go?
Hells, Remmie! Get your head out of the gutter. I sigh to myself. I just can’t. Every minute I think of a different thing I want him to do to me. Or me to him.
Yesterday, he even invited me to his place after we closed the bakery.
I think he could tell I was down. Not one customer came in, again.
At one point it looked like a shadow was standing outside the window, but when I went to look, there was no one there.
Either I really am cursed or I am not as good a baker as I once thought.
Shade devours everything I’ve made, so, small victories, I suppose.
But I miss the delight of a new customer trying my sweets for the first time and enjoying them.
The ride-share to where Shade lived was short but holy cow, the building was intense.
The sign, Demo-Global, lite up the early evening sky and the window-covered walls seemed to go up forever.
Shade met me in the front entrance, a tall and gorgeous demon standing next to him.
Her black horns sat high atop her head and her charcoal suit hugged her curves.
She looked impatient, her arms crossed, her eyebrow ticked up.
To say I felt like a potato in my soft leggings and boy band T-shirt would have been an understatement.
Shade introduced her as Marla, CEO of Demo-Global.
And called her his best friend and babysitter in the same breath.
If looks could kill, Shade would have been ash at her feet.
After signing a visitor waiver, which Marla was very insistent upon me doing, she escorted us to the 15th floor, where the demons lived in this building.
Most of them that lived here also worked here so it was extremely convenient.
There weren’t many humans, thus the escort in case someone got any ideas. But once we made it to Shades’ apartment, Marla handed me a business card, stating Shade will inevitably do something to upset me and if I should need help with him, to call her, and promptly left.
I couldn’t help but laugh. They had the relationship of siblings.
Like in a sitcom where the younger brother annoyed the older sister and gets away with everything he could.
It was cute to see him interact with another demon.
And now I have some back up if I ever need it when it comes to him. Not that I think I will.
His apartment is cozy but so Shade. A large Black couch with blue and grey throw pillows sits in the center of the room and a huge flat screen TV sit against a whole wall of shelves full of movies.
The galley kitchen is stainless steel and dark wood and I itch to bake something in the clearly untouched space.
Shade said he’s a takeout kind of demon.
Seeing this shining kitchen, the pots and pans unused, I can believe him.
He shows me the bathroom and the single bedroom. My heart jumping at the sight of the large king size bed, covered with soft looking sheets. I don’t miss Shade looking at me like he’d want to see me on that bed, either. Gulp. I force myself to move on, quickly.
After pizza and cherry coke, we discovered our shared love of Bruce Willis movies, agreeing that Die Hard is, in fact, a Christmas film and laughing out loud to our cheesy reenactments of The Fifth Element.
Gods, when was the last time I’d felt that happy?
Content to watch movies with someone other than Sharina or Gran.
There were so many times that night where I swore Shade would touch or kiss me.
But no. He just reached past me for the remote or another drink. I’m pretty sure I managed to hide my disappointment. Every moment with him is becoming harder to rein in my perverted thoughts and lingering looks.
The next morning, I’m a bit distracted by Shade, humming a boy band tune I’ve played in the bakery a few times.
He calls my music poppy hits and swears he hates it.
His tail grazes my back, sending shivers all over my body.
He’s been doing these little gestures these past few days.
Restocking supplies, labeling items and now dusting.
Maybe he is bored but I don’t think so. There really isn’t anything keeping him here.
well, unless you count the spell that literally traps him inside my bakery.
“You don’t have to do that, you know. “
“How else am I going to make you fall in love with me?” Shade jokes.
If only he knew how close I already was.
Clearing my throat, I get back to, whatever I was even doing.
Ignoring the way my heart starts pounding just thinking of Shade and love.
And, other things. My mother would have called this a silly crush.
My gran, an infatuation. Would I call it longing?
Longing for someone of my own. I really don’t know how I’ve kept myself going after all of the losses in my life.
Am I just attached to Shade because he's the first Being in almost a year I’ve been so close with?
Besides my college friend Sharina, I don’t really have a community.
She’s told me to go to therapy more times than I can count.
It just never felt like the right thing to do for me.
How do I know I’m not just projecting my feelings onto him?
One day this will have to end, right? Once he helps with whatever spell was cast here, he’ll leave.
The thought makes my heart break. I look forward to every little interaction with him.
He’s become my friend. Something I didn’t realize I desperately needed.
“Oh hello. What’s this?” Shade asks, pulling an old dusty book from my cookbook shelf.
“Huh! No idea.” I reply.
“It’s coated in magic. I can feel it.”
I jump with renewed excitement. Since this all started, I’ve wanted to discover what all this magic stuff means. Was my Gran truly a witch? What more of my family history was I not allowed to know?
We lay the book out on the counter and start to look through it. The pages are brittle and colored with age, and the words are hard to read and some aren’t even in English. But I would notice my grandmothers handwriting anywhere. My fingertips tingle, a familiar sensation crawling up my arms.
“What is that?” I whisper is awe.
“Can you feel it? The magic?” Shade asks.
“Is that what it is? It feels familiar. Like I know it. This is amazing.”
My Grandmother’s smile pops into my mind and a tear falls down my cheeks.
I never thought I’d feel her warmth again.
And this book has been here this whole time.
We continue to flip through the pages, Shade translating whatever he can.
It’s definitely a spell book, but also a recipe book.
Including things like How to Keep A Quich From Falling to Potions For Longevity: Add To Soups.
If my Gran was a witch, what did she do?
Was she like, Glinda the Good? The idea makes me chuckle.
A photo falls out of the book, floating onto the counter. Shade quickly scoops it up, inspecting it. I look at the picture, instantly recognizing my Gran with three other women. They sit around a circular table; cards splayed before them. The photo looks alive, even though it’s obviously old.
“Uh, this is not a card game they are having in this picture, Sweetness. This is a Séance. They were a coven,” he shouts.