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20
Archer
The soft, almost irritating feeling of something gently brushing over my nose has me twitching. I swat at it, unwilling to open my eyes. It tickles again and I grunt, moving my head to the side. The sharp slap of an open palm cracks across my cheek and I’m jarred awake, nearly head-butting Ezra. The bastard falls over backward, holding his sides with laughter.
“What in the actual fuck?” I shove out of the chair, managing to connect a solid punch to his shoulder before he rolls out of the way. “Did you slap me? Like an open-handed pot shot?”
“You weren’t waking up.” Ezra hops up from the ground, only to flop back on his bed, still laughing.
“Did you try speaking out loud? Or are you hoping your new magical power is telepathy and you can shout at me in my brain?”
“I don’t know if telepathy would be awful or awesome.” Ezra stretches out on his bed. He tucks his arms under his head, propping it up so he can see me.
“I don't think most people have the nicest internal dialogue. It’s probably like Facebook, where the anonymity of the internet turns people into full on ass trolls. Can you imagine what Mrs. Bunchen’s inner monolog is like? She might be trying to set you up with her daughter, but I bet she’s got all kinds of dirty thoughts about being your mother-in-law.”
Ezra shudders and glares at me. “Thanks for that. Now I have to go bleach my brain.”
“You’re welcome.” I get up out of my chair, stretching until a few body parts pop and crack. Fuck sleeping in a chair. I might only be twenty-eight, but I’m still way too fucking old for that shit. “You look better this morning. How are you feeling?”
Ezra’s color is back to normal, and sweat isn’t pouring off his face, so that’s a big improvement.
“Actually, I feel great. Better than I have in a while.”
I frown at him, and he shrugs. “Do you think it was your magic trying to rear its head?”
“Maybe?”
“You should have Miri test out your magic. See what wonderful gifts are on your horizon.”
Ezra hums without committing to anything. I’m not going to force his hand. I’m not his mother. He can figure his own shit out.
“I need a shower, a toothbrush, and a giant coffee. If you don’t think you’re dying anymore, then I’m going to head out.”
“I’m good, man.” Ezra pops off his bed, walking me out to the deck. “Thanks for coming.”
Because I know him so damn well, I can sense what he’s not saying. Whatever the hell was happening scared the shit out of him.
“Let me know if it happens again.”
Ezra gives me a thumbs up, because he’s a prick. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to say it out loud for me to know he’s grateful. It’s still early as we say goodbye, the sun only just peeking over the horizon. I make quick work of the ride home, showering, and getting ready for the day. I’m in desperate need of a strong cup of coffee before I head into work. Sleeping in a chair does not equal the most restful night.
Sidhe’s Cup is busy this morning. The little cafe tables that inhabit the space in front of the store are full, and I nod at a few familiar faces as I head inside. There’s a line of at least ten people in front of me, but I’m not in a hurry to get to my office, anyway. It takes a sum total of ten seconds for me to spot the blue-black sheet of silky hair that’s pulled up in a slick ponytail.
Before I can second guess myself, I cut in line behind her. I give the older woman behind me a wink, which transforms her scowl into a flirty smile. I don't know what possesses me to tug on her hair, especially since we aren’t exactly speaking at the moment, but that’s what I do. Lena spins around and I see the words poised on her lips, ready to eviscerate whoever just touched her. When she sees it’s me, her mouth snaps shut. She narrows her eyes and turns around again. Just as I’m about to tap on her shoulder, she steps up to the counter to order.
Poking my head around her, I smile at the barista. “Put a large black coffee on that order as well.”
Lena’s shoulders stiffen, and I think I hear her teeth grinding together. “No, don’t. He can wait his turn.”
The poor kid behind the counter looks back and forth between us, an uncertain and uncomfortable look on his face. I mouth the words, I’ve got it, and the kid nods and plugs in my order. Before Lena can protest, I’ve already dropped the cash on the counter to pay for the drinks and tip. I’m not even sure what I’m doing. I’m supposed to be staying away from Lena. Shit did not end well the other day and I’m trying to give her some space. She hasn’t texted or called, and even though I’ve been tempted to march over to her apartment and demand she talk to me, I haven’t.
Lena skitters around to the side of the counter, and I follow behind her, admiring her outfit today. She looks straight out of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. A pair of black leather pants hug her body like a second skin, and her boots look like they could stomp someone’s face in. Her black leather jacket is zipped up, and she has her hands shoved into the pockets while she pretends to ignore me. Nearly every inch of her is covered, but she’s so delectable I want to peel all those layers off and explore each patch of skin as it’s exposed.
“You’re looking very Lisbeth Salander today,” I murmur as I slide in beside her.
“That’s right. Watch out or I’ll kick your ass.”
“You can do anything you want to my ass.”
