Page 67 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

“Damien?” I ask in a strangled whisper. “Please say something.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally looking me in the eyes again.

My heart plummets into my stomach at those first two words. It’s happening again. I’ll always be too much for this world and never be enough for the one beneath us. I nod as that cold heat rushes through my veins, dropping my eyes to his inked collar bones. That pang of rejection is sharper than ever after he promised me that I couldn’t scare him away. I should have known. I should have known.

“So, like, would it be rude of me to ask you to do some magic shit?” he asks. “Would it be too hard after the seizure? Does it require energy? I’m sure you’re still tired after that grand mal.”

I blink, staring up at him. “Wh-what?”

“I should probably talk to you about some stuff too. I mean, I’m stoked as hell that we can fuck now, but we should discuss limits and stuff.”

“Damien—”

“Right, bad timing to bring that up, I guess,” he says, sighing.

“Damien—you’re not—you’re not leaving?”

His brow furrows like he’s baffled by what I just asked him.

“Lillith, I promised you that there was nothing that you could do or say that would make me not want to be with you,” he says. “Does it sound fucking insane? Yes. One hundred percent. But you said you would show me, and I believe you.”

“But... I can’t leave.”

“A bit of a drag, but we’ll figure something out,” he says. “I mean, I assume you’re trying to break this Final Destination thing, right?”

“Yes,” I say a little breathlessly.

“Cool,” he says, resting his head on my doorframe and looking down at me. He brushes his fingers through my hair and gives me a lazy, crooked smile. “What’s the date?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“The date, what day is it?” he repeats.

“Uhm—June sixth, I think,” I say.

“Nice,” he says with a grin.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve gotta make sure I know when our anniversary is,” he says, leaning down and pressing his forehead against mine. “Since you’re my girlfriend now, right?”

My smile is so bright that it makes my cheeks hurt. “I mean... yeah. If you still want me,” I say.

“Oh, I want you, sweetheart,” he says, claiming my mouth in a brief, but breath-stealing kiss. “I want you more than ever.”

ㅤ

“Okay, okay. Let me see it one more time,” I say a few hours later as we lie on the living room floor on another makeshift cot of blankets and pillows. I’m on my back while Gloam chills on the angle of my bent knee, and Lillith is resting her forearms on my chest, her chin perched upon the point where they meet.

“Damien, I thought you were going to let me rest,” she says, but she doesn’t sound put out.

“You said the hair color thing takes, like, no energy. You told me it’s the magical equivalent of brushing your teeth.”

“Do you like to brush your teeth eight times in one day?” she teases.

“Uhhhh, yes,” I lie. I beam when she falls into another fit of giggles.

She sighs, sitting up properly and crossing her legs. She wiggles her manicured fingers in front of my face. “Nothing up my sleeve,” she says.