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“You look phenomenal,” he growls, and my body buzzes with excitement.
“Thanks,” I stammer, the intensity behind his stare making me lightheaded. I don’t want to leave, but I also don’t want to get fired so I force myself to move. “I better go now. See you, Zeno.”
“Goodbye, Whirlwind.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Bethany
The plan to go out wearing an outfit that included a mask had seemed reasonable when I was in my apartment with just a blue genie for life advice. Now that I’m out on the streets, it’s apparent that this is a very bad idea.
If I try to look at this situation as a learning curve, I now know two things to be true.
First, never take fashion advice from a blue man wearing nothing but a silk belt. Second, though a mask may prevent people from recognizing me, it doesn’t prevent the feeling of shame, and beneath the rubber, I am the color of a beetroot.
Passing cars honk their horns at me and parents on the school run shield their children’s eyes as I totter along in my towering high heels dressed like something from a fetish porn film.
If that wasn’t awkward enough, the material makes a loud creaking sound as I walk, so people ahead turn around to see what the noise is, then jump out of their skins when they see my latex-clad face.
I dash into the first store I pass that sells normal clothes and grab a few pairs of jeans, some shirts, a couple of sweaters, and a pair of sneakers.
I’m sure most people given three wishes would have chosen something that made them wealthier, but here I am punishing my poor credit card for my drunken mistake.
“Is it ok to get changed in the fitting room before going back outside please?” I ask the girl behind the counter as she bags up my new clothes.
“Of course,” she says, then winks at me and whispers. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there.”
If only she knew the half of it.
I head into the fitting room and peel myself out of the tight catsuit, panting from the exertion as though I’ve just run a marathon.
It would have been so much easier if Zeno could have used his magic to undress me, and the idea of him taking my clothes off makes heat pool in my stomach.
There’s something about the way he looks at me, and the way he teases me in that rich but formal voice of his that makes me flutter inside.
Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he’s drop-dead gorgeous. The only issue is that he’s a genie, and I’m pretty sure that’s a red flag, or maybe a blue one.
Whatever. No good can come from lusting after him, and I think I’ve made enough poor decisions during the past twenty-four hours to last a lifetime.
I walk out of the store, feeling relieved that I can move my limbs properly again, and head into the coffee shop next door for a very necessary caffeine hit.
A cute guy sitting in the corner eating a pastry while reading a book looks up at me and smiles.
I smile back. Then he holds eye contact while putting his fingertips into his mouth and gives them a slow and sensual lick to moisten them before turning the page.
I join the line at the counter, and when I glance back, his fingers are back in his mouth, and he’s sucking on them gently with his gaze fixed on me. His book is going to be soaked if he keeps going like that.
“What can I get you?” drawls a deep voice, jolting my attention back to the counter where I see the barista dragging a hand back through his sandy blonde curls and looking me up and down with brooding eyes.
“Iced coffee please,” I say, and he claps his hand over his heart dramatically and says, “My favorite order. I knew you’d have good taste.”
“Um, thanks,” I say, searching his face for a suggestion that he’s joking, but there’s not a hint of amusement.
“A girl as sweet as you deserves to have a little sugar in the morning,” he says, picking up a donut with a pair of tongs and putting it into a brown paper bag.
“It’s got cream inside. Think about me when you’re eating it,” he says with a wink as he passes it over the counter.
My eyes flare wide. Does he mean what I think he means? What the hell is going on? First the guy with the book, now the barista.
