Goldie hums, unconvinced. “Apparently a werewolf showed up and killed it when it started to attack people. There was footage,” Goldie adds, swinging her gaze back and forth between me and Brexley.
They know. They know it was Brexley. They might even know the Ogre tried to whisk me away if someone was filming with their phone.
“We saw. It’s been a crazy morning,” I say, still giving them nothing. I’m holding my mug like it’s a lifeline. “Good thing Brexley was there. Ogre seemed confused. Maybe he was on drugs or something. He acted totally weird.”
“You okay?” Cinder asks. Her question is sincere, and she isn’t pushing for details. I’m grateful for that.
I nod. “Yeah. I'm cool. Like I said, it's just been a crazy day.”
How many times can I use the word crazy? The words coming out of my mouth are so lame, I’d shoot them and put them out of their misery if I could.
Tall and silent over there isn’t helping back me up. He couldn’t come up with a decent lie to embellish my story?
Maybe I should shoot him instead. Give him the Old Yeller treatment . . .
“So.” Goldie turns her attention back to Brexley.
I launch right into deflection. “Oh my gosh Goldie, did you feed the buns? You didn’t have to do that. I texted you I’ve got them since I’m staying in town.”
Bangs and Bombs are snuggled together on the carpet rug, their little noses bopping up and down as they sleep. Usually they’d be jumping up and down for my attention the second I get home. I recognize the signs of a bunny treat coma. Cinder especially spoils them when she drops by.
“Oh, did you? I guess I forgot,” Goldie says airily.
She didn’t forget. She and Cinder are here to pry into my life, and I can’t tell if I’m annoyed or honored they care enough.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Goldie asks, shooting me a pointed look.
“Yeah.” Cinder leans over to lock eyes with me as well.
The words behind their expressions are completely clear.What the actual fuck? You have a secret boyfriend?
Then before I can say anything, Goldie is on her feet and across the room in front of Brexley. I take the opportunity to sink into the spot on the couch she vacated. I pull my legs up and try not to think about how I’m in a modified fetal position. It won’t protect me from the cringe about to happen.
She shoots her hand out at Brexley with a friendly smile that might possibly drown him in sunshine. “Hi, I’m Goldie.”
For a moment, I don’t breathe as I wait for him to take her hand. Brexley’s expression is inscrutable. His dark, foreboding broodiness crammed in the same room as my friends feels like being inside a very small glass, filled with oil and water.
If Brexley wants to play the part of my boyfriend, he is going to have to play nice. Though maybe it’s better if this whole thing blows up right now, so I have an excuse to send him away.
Finally, he takes Goldie’s hand and flashes a quick, strained smile. “Brexley Moon. Pleasure.”
Next to me, Cinder waves a hand at him. “I’m Cinder.”
Brexley nods at her. “Hey there.”
Is it possible to die of literal embarrassment?
As I rush to suddenly gather up the pens on the ground, a trashy reality show about sexy mages all stuck in a beach house together flickers on my TV. I’ve watched it with my friends before. The group starts with a million dollars, but every time someone uses their powers, money gets knocked off. At the end, the group splits whatever’s leftover. But between their need to impress and bed other mages in the house, it’s clear most of them are willing to screw the others over. Or just screw them.
I set the pens on the table and return to my coffee and saving grace.
They are all Level Two mages, and still come from money and prestige. But anyone below a Level Three is considered insignificant in the magic world. Level Twos are especially savage in their attempts to claw their way up in any way possible, which makes them perfect for reality television.
Had I stayed at FFA, I would have come out with a rating, but Level Zero isn’t technically a rating.
Goldie sets a hand on her hip as she cocks her head. “How come we’ve never heard of you before, Brexley?”
I drop my head, resting my forehead against the warm ceramic. For faefucks sake.
