“Right, right. Sorry.” She sets her phone aside, but I notice she leaves her notes app open. Typical. “So… Was it good? I mean, obviously it was good—you’re practically glowing. But like, emotionally good? Did he do the whole possessive monster thing? Details, babe!”
I sink lower in my chair, face burning. “It was… intense. Like, I’ve never felt anything like it. The way he looked at me, Mags. Like I was something precious. And God, his tail…” I trail off, once again lost in the memory of smooth scales sliding against my skin.
“Aaaand?” Maggie prompts, leaning forward eagerly.
“And now I’m terrified I’m reading too much into it!” The words burst out of me. “What if this is just a fling for him? He’s this powerful, ancient creature who probably has women throwingthemselves at him all the time. And I’m just… I couldn’t even hold down a bastard like Derek.”
“Okay, first of all?” Maggie holds up a finger. “Derek was a soggy piece of Wonder Bread who thought the missionary position was kinky. Second? I’ve walked by the pawn shop a few times and seen how Sundar looks at you when you’re not watching. Trust me, this is not just a fling.”
I fidget with my coffee mug, tracing the rim with my finger. “You don’t understand. You haven’t seen his ex. Nalini—she’s like… Imagine if Cleopatra and Medusa had a baby, but make it extra spicy and venomous. And I’m over here stress-eating Pop-Tarts at 3 AM and watching true crime documentaries in my ratty pajamas.”
“Aubrey.” Maggie’s voice gets that stern edge that means she’s about to drop some wisdom on me. “Has it occurred to you that maybe Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Scaly is tired of perfect? That maybe what he wants is someone real?”
“I’m plenty real. Real messy. Real broke. Real—”
“Real caring,” Maggie cuts in. “Real funny. Real brave. Need I remind you that you’re the only person who can sass him without getting that scary cobra hood flare thing? Mrs. Brindlewood told me all about how well you handle him when he gets all broody and dramatic.”
“You’ve been talking to Mrs. Brindlewood?” I nearly drop my mug. “How do you even know her?”
“Oh, right!” Maggie brightens. “Remember that monster-friendly bookshop I told you about? The one where I’ve been doing research for my matchmaking business? Turns out Mrs. Brindlewood hosts this weekly tea circle there for, and I quote, ‘distinguished monster ladies and their human allies.’ Which basically means she gossips with anyone who’ll listen while showing off her latest shopping finds.”
I groan, slumping deeper into my chair. “Of course she does. And of course you know her. You’re like some kind of supernatural networking savant.”
“Hey, when you’re trying to build a monster-human matchmaking empire, you learn to spot opportunities. And Mrs. B is basically a living encyclopedia of who’s dating who in the monster community.” She pauses, giving me a pointed look. “Though she did seem particularly interested in a certain naga shopkeeper and his human assistant…”
“Oh God.” I bury my face in my hands. “Please tell me she hasn’t been spreading rumors about us.”
“More like spreading hope? Apparently, the monster community is desperate for more successful human-monster couples. You two could be, like, their poster children!”
“That’s a lot of pressure I didn’t need right now, thanks.”
“Look,” Maggie says, her voice softening. “What I’m trying to say is that this isn’t just some random hookup. From everything Mrs. B has told me about monster relationships, especially nagaones, they don’t do casual. And speaking of non-casual…” She leans forward, eyes sparking with that look that usually means I’m about to be pushed way out of my comfort zone. “When are you going to ask him on a real date?”
I nearly choke on my coffee again. “A what now?”
“A date,” Maggie repeats slowly, like she’s talking to a particularly dense child. “You know, that thing where two people who are attracted to each other go somewhere that isn’t a magical pawn shop full of cursed objects, and actually talk about their feelings?”
“We talk!” I protest. “Just yesterday we had a whole conversation about proper cataloging methods for haunted jewelry.”
“Wow. Hot.” Maggie rolls her eyes so hard I’m worried they might get stuck. “Let me be real with you: You’ve done things backwards here. Most people date first, but you two jumped straight to the ‘wrapped up in his bed’ part—which, again, we will discuss in detail later for research purposes—but now you need to backtrack and do the romantic stuff.”
“I don’t know…” I trace a coffee stain on our ancient tablecloth. “What would I even suggest? I don’t know what he likes to eat. Besides gummy worms, I guess. What if he prefers live mice or something?”
“Aubrey.” Maggie reaches across the table and grabs my hands. “First of all, you’ve literally seen him eat Mrs. Brindlewood’sscones. Second, he’s not some wild animal—he’s a sophisticated, centuries-old being who probably has better table manners than both of us combined. And third…” She squeezes my hands. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling! I’m just… considering all possible scenarios. Like what if we go somewhere public and people stare? Or what if it’s terrible and awkward and ruins everything? Or what if—”
“Or what if it’s amazing?” Maggie cuts in. “What if you actually let yourself believe that this gorgeous, powerful creature who literally wrapped himself around you last night might actually want something real with you?”
The memory of Sundar’s intense golden eyes flashes through my mind: the way he’d looked at me this morning over breakfast, like I was something precious he couldn’t quite believe was real.
“Fine,” I mutter, my resolve crumbling under Maggie’s relentless optimism and my own traitorous heart. “But if this goes sideways, you’ll owe me a dozen pints of ice cream.”
“Deal. Now, let’s strategize.” Maggie whips out her phone again, fingers flying over the screen. “According to my research, nagas appreciate cultural experiences. What about that new fusion restaurant downtown? The one with the private booths?”
“You mean the place where appetizers cost more than my weekly grocery budget?”
“Girl.” Maggie fixes me with a look. “You’re dating a literal treasure-hoarding mythical being. I think he can handle the check.”
