I raised my eyebrows. “Have fun.”
Troy narrowed his eyes. “I actually will. These things are important to her, and I don’t mind pretty bouquets.”
“Sure. I’ll go to the coffee shop then. Joseph doesn’t expect us back until the meeting at three anyway. I’ll take the work laptop with me.”
“Don’t get too distracted.”
I flipped him the bird and closed my laptop.
Lunchtime was less busy than mornings, and I treated myself to a Caesar salad wrap and another coffee. Milo brought my order to my table.
“Those wraps are amazing, you’ll see,” he said with his usual smile and sunshine demeanor. “The restaurant next door makes them for us.”
“Thanks. Is it okay if I work from here for a bit?”
“Make yourself at home. The Wi-Fi password is here.” He tapped the standee on the table, then returned to the counter.
Author’s notes:
Sorry this one was so late. As you may have noticed, I updated my Milo Has Tentacles fic, but I’ll be setting it aside to finish this one first. One shot? Dunno her.
Rowan
The neon lights of The Blue Tentacle club flashed in the alleyway of a street that had looked unassuming during the day, but was alive on a Friday night. I passed several restaurants, bars, and a sex shop, until I reached the establishment with Cryptid Alliance and rainbow flags draped over the sides of the entrance. A large werewolf at the door in a security vest eyed me and sniffed the air.
“You’re new,” he said in a gravelly voice.
“I’m in town for a few weeks for work.”
“Don’t stir up trouble.”
“I'm not planning to.”
We shared a look of understanding, from one big cryptid to another, knowing how we were judged by our looks andexpected to be aggressive. But he’d smelled my intentions and knew I wasn’t lying.
With a nod, he let me in.
The loud beat of the music mixed with excited chatter hit my ears and settled in my chest in the form of anticipation. I would let loose tonight and see what this town had to offer.
I approached the crowded bar area and waited my turn to order my drink. Apart from the long mirror behind the display of alcohol bottles, the walls were covered in artistic swirls of graffiti and posters of movies that remained pop-culture phenomena, including Creature from the Black Lagoon and The Wolf Man.
The barman, also a werewolf easily identified by his teeth and thick facial hair, served me my lager. I sipped the drink and turned to the dance floor, which vibrated with sensual energy from scantily dressed human and cryptid bodies.
Most monsters, as we now lovingly called ourselves, lived among humans openly, like me, but some who could hide their non-human appearance or abilities, like shifters or psychokinetics, chose to keep it to themselves. Acceptance varied between countries and cities, but this club was fully open to monsters and humans of all sexualities, backgrounds, and genders. I grinned. Wendigo Hills kept surprising me in the best of ways.
Many places still advocated for the return of the Cure—a drug that erased monstrous features permanently, but we had protested, rallied and voted for equality, hoping for a better future for everyone. Discovering a town with an open-minded community in the middle of Nowhere, North Illinois was not on my bingo card this year. Then again, neither was moving out of Chicago for the entire summer, yet here I was.
Even with my second beer nearly finished, I didn’t feel like dancing. I scanned the club full of cryptids and humans minglingtogether, but no one drew my attention enough for me to move my ass off the stool.
I straightened up when a messy mop of light blonde hair appeared in the crowd. The person turned my way and revealed a tall snake shifter female with glistening scales on her cheeks and forearms.
Not Milo.
“Care to join us?” A tall man scanned me from head to foot, his tail wrapped around a human woman’s waist.
They were gorgeous, and I gave myself a second to feel the pull, but nothing was there. “Not today, sorry.”
They both pouted.
