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“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Decker, sounding sulky.
“I know exactly how you meant it.”
“I’m just saying, I outweigh you, and I can drink more alcohol without being as affected. It’s science,” said Decker.
“You know what?” said Zebedee. “I don’t want him in my car, actually, Essence. You know how to get to my grandfather’s place. I will meet you both there.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the bar.
Essence let out a little moan. “Why did you have to be like that with him?”
“I hate him,” said Decker darkly. “I’ve always hated him. You know this. When you brought him around that first time, I hated him then.”
She tugged on the handcuff. “Let’s go. I guess we’re driving while we’re handcuffed.”
“Fine,” he said.
They walked out of the bar, in time to see Zebedee turning a corner ahead of them. Outside, it was dark and cold.
“Where’s your car?” she said.
“This way,” he said, leading the way, pulling her along.
She nearly stumbled, grabbing onto his arm. “Can you not drag me around, please?”
“Sorry,” he said, contrite, looking down at her. He tried to pull her coat back over her shoulder again. “I’m really sorry, you know? Tangles and briars, all of this between us, it’s my fault.”
“It’s not.” She patted his upper arm. He had great arms. She’d always thought so. He was actually incredibly attractive. She’d never really wanted to be with an elf, though she’d felt pressured by her family to settle down with someone “appropriate,” in other words—someone they knew. She liked male species that tended towards the huge and hulking, and Decker had wings. She leaned into him a little, squeezing his arm.
He let out a noisy breath.
She let go of him.
They walked.
“Hey, that thing I said about us having sex or whatever,” he muttered.
“You’re taking that back?” she said, disappointed. “You don’t want to?”
“I…” He glanced at her. “Obviously, I want to. I just… wait, you want to?”
“I was promised redemption,” she said, grinning up at him.
He laughed. He nudged her shoulder with his shoulder. This knocked her coat off.
She hauled it up.
“Sorry,” he said. “My car.” He pointed. He was heading for the driver’s side.
“Wait,” she said. “Let’s go around the other way, so I can get in.”
“No,” he said. “You’re going to crawl across.”
“Well, why can’t you—”
“Because I’m bigger than you.”
“Size-ist,” she huffed.
He opened the door and gestured with his free hand for her to get in.
