“Lunch?”
“You bet,” said Raya around a mouthful of cookie. “That way I can get to know Mr. New Hot Friend, see if I think he’s any good for you.”
“He’s not my new hot friend. And if you call him that tomorrow, I’ll die. I really will.”
“Okay, okay. Mr. New Hot Friend is our little secret.” Raya raised her soda bottle like she was making a toast.
“He’s not a secret! And he’s not hot.” Erin felt a blush creep over her cheeks.
Raya rolled her eyes. “Fine. He’s not hot, he’s not a secret, and he’s definitely not a rebound.” She brushed the crumbs off her hands and stood. “I gotta get back to the stacks. See you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Erin agreed. It was just lunch.
What could go wrong?
8
Erin opened the front door to find the living room transformed.
Andy, with a marker in each hand and one tucked behind his left ear, stood in the center of the chaos.
“You’re home! Don’t mind the mess. It’s part of my process,” he said.
Erin froze just inside the door, unable to take a single step. Papers covered the entire floor. Posters lined every open wall space. A stack of binders teetered on the coffee table.
“Oops,” he said, realizing that she couldn’t move. He hastily gathered up an armful to clear a path for her.
“Thanks,” she said. “What is all this?”
“The Plan.” He gestured grandly, waving the markers through the air. The one tucked behind his ear fell out due to the vigorous motion. He picked it up and balanced it precariously on the stack of binders.
It immediately rolled off and fell to the floor.
Nancy Drew wandered over and sniffed it, then lost interest and sat down on a stack of paper.
Erin picked her way over to the couch. “Did you even sleep last night, Andy?”
“Sleep is for mortals,” he said, adding a few underlines and messy star shapes to a poster titled “CAR-RELATED MISHAPS.”
“You sat up all night?”
“Something like that.” He stuck a fluorescent Post-It note to a poster labeled “UNWANTED PIZZA DELIVERY.”
She stretched out on the couch, put her feet up, and let her eyes close. “I guess demons don’t dream,” she murmured to herself, recalling the strange half-dream she’d had the night of the curse.
“Nope. But I can visit other people’s,” he said casually.
Erin’s eyes flew open. “Really?”
“Yup.” He circled an entry on the “EMBARRASSING MAIL ORDER CATALOGS” poster.
She shifted her position to look more carefully at another poster. “What are ‘Food and Drink Surprises’?”
“You know. Salt in the sugar bowl. Cool Whip in the mayo jar. Then you use the mayo you took out of the jar to replace the cream in some doughnuts.”
Erin nearly gagged at the thought. “That’s hideous.”
“Isn’t it?”
