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Maybe I’d been wrong about him possibly being The One.

I didn’t think he could be The One when he was this boring.

And when he’d squeezed my knee under the table after we sat down, I’d felt that weird, cringy grossed-out feeling again.

Which wasn’t a good sign, right? That was probably not a great indicator that I was interested in more with him. Or being touched by him. But that, in turn, just made me feel guilty.

Lucifer, I hated dating. I just wanted to find a nice, unbelievably hot man who couldn’t keep his hands off me but also wanted to buy me things and cook for me and loved my best friend as much as I did and spent his free time sketching alluring and flattering portraits of me from memory.

In the grand scheme of things, it really wasn’t a big ask. I didn’t even care what species he was. I just wanted him to be madly in love with me. And super hot.

That was only two things. Practically nothing. I couldn’t be more low-maintenance if I tried, for fuck’s sake.

“So, Niko,” Clarence began in that ‘sultry’ purr that made my shoulders want to hunch. He leaned closer over the sticky table and ran a fingertip around the rim of his glass as he gazed at me. “What’s your favourite woodland creature?”

I stared at him. “Um… huh?”

He threw back his head far too dramatically and laughed far too loud, then sighed and gazed at me almost lovingly with a coquettish little smile. “Oh, you. So funny, Niko.”

“Um…” I was growing flustered, so I reached for my rum and coke and had a long sip. “I don’t—um, maybe… maybe a stag beetle? Does that… count?”

Clarence’s nose wrinkled. He clearly wasn’t all that happy with my answer. “I suppose it does. So it’s not more like something with… oh, I don’t know…” He grinned at me and winked. Actually winked. “Cloven hooves, perhaps?”

I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt his sandal nudge my boot.

Managing a weak, croaky laugh, I sipped my drink again. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Good one.”

“Mine’s a duck,” he then declared, picking up his glass of wine.

My brows twitched. Hadn’t he eaten duck at dinner? Wasn’t it a little weird to say your ‘favourite’ woodland creature was the one you enjoyed consuming?

“I think a duck would actually be considered waterfowl, not a woodland animal,” a guy passing our table told us conversationally. I snapped my head up with unbridled hope, beyond happy to have someone else included in this conversation so I wasn’t the sole focus of Clarence’s attention for a while.

Then my teeth sank into my lower lip when I noticed the guy who’d paused by our table was a fucking smoke show. A fae, I was pretty sure, with that sharp, elegant bone structure and beautiful big eyes and luminescent skin.

“Hi,” I heard myself breathe, just as Clarence made a little sound in his throat and purred, “Well, hello there.”

That made me stiffen and shoot him a suspicious frown. Wait, was he hitting on the fae too?

Was that allowed?

The fae glanced between the two of us, looking a touch alarmed as he took a step back, clutching his glass tighter. “Um, sorry for interrupting. I was just—”

“It’s no problem,” I said quickly, because I didn’t want him to leave yet, even though Clarence was now trailing lusty eyes up and down the guy’s frame.

I considered that for a split second and realised… nope, I didn’t care. I wasn’t jealous. But I wanted the beautiful fae, damn it.

“Why don’t you join us?” Clarence murmured, going so far as to pull out the spare seat at our table. “Tell us about your most recent lov—”

“Sorry.” The fae took another step back and shook his head vigorously. “Not interested in… Didn’t mean to give that impression. Sorry. Bye.”

I almost cried ‘Wait!’ just because I didn’t want to have to talk to Clarence anymore, but the fae was already striding quickly to the other side of the bar, slipping between patrons to vanish into the crowd.

I sighed and gulped back more rum. Why the Hell had I suggested we go for a drink after dinner? I could’ve been at home right now, in bed, eating discount cake and bitching to Nat about men.

“Well, anyway.” Clarence chuckled, twisting in his seat to face me once again. I wished he wouldn’t bother. “I don’t think he was correct. Ducks can be classed as woodland animals, because they—”

“Would you excuse me?” I said in the brightest, friendliest voice I could muster. “Just need to use the restroom.”