Before I could come up with a quick and witty response that would divert his attention and soften the intensity of his gaze–one I felt in the curl of my toes and butterflies in my stomach–my phone chimed. I took a steadying breath, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear for something to do as I turned my attention toward the kitchen and shuffled over to my phone.
Clark Kent: Hey, are we still on for tomorrow?
Quincey: Shit! Sorry! I forgot to message. I’m seeing my grandparents tomorrow. But all of my bits in the paper are done so just hand it in when you’ve given it a once over.
Clark Kent: Ah, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to our study session.
Clark Kent: I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you.
Quincey: And here I was thinking you were using me for good grades.
Clark Kent: A mutually beneficial arrangement seeing as you’ve been using me for snacks.
Although when I came to think about it, of the countless hours we had spent studying, Jude had failed to ask which snacks I liked, opting to show up with an assortment, some okay, somedecidedlynotokay (where does one even find candy corn in the middle of December?)
Clark Kent: Now that our studies are all wrapped up. How about you use me for something else instead? Like dinner? ;)
I stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary, trying and miserably failing to stop the grin from tearing across my face. I continued to stare down at my phone long enough for Thallor to pick up on it.
“What?” I think I heard Thallor speak. I wasn’t quite sure. It had been so long since I had actually been asked out on a date. And whilst I felt inexplicably distracted by my demon roommate, I couldn’t deny that Jude was attractive–and he was equally interested in me. I didn’t expect anything long-term to come of it, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to distract myself from the fiery red hair that seemed to occupy all my waking thoughts.
Quincey: Are you actually asking me out?
Clark Kent: I didn’t read the room wrong, did I?
Quincey: You didn’t do any reading whatsoever by my estimation.
Clark Kent: Pick you up Friday at 8pm?
Quincey: Okay :)
“Sterling.”
I lifted my head from where it was still buried in my phone to see Thallor standing about a foot away from me, his head cocked to the side, and a confused expression etched across his face.
“What happened?”
“Oh, I was just talking to the guy I’ve been studying with.” I turned my phone toward Thallor so he could read the messages on my screen. “He asked me out on a date.”
I left Thallor reading through the messages on my phone as I walked over to the freezer. I rummaged around before my hands locked on a yellow box that promised to be both lacking in basic nutritional necessities and unbelievably delicious.
“Who is Jude?” Thallor asked as he put down my phone, pressing his other hand over the countertop to look down at me.
“What do you mean, ‘who’s Jude?’” I looked up at him with calculating eyes, trying to ignore the comically absurd difference in our heights, whilst his eyes remained locked on mine. “Jude Watlings? He’s the guy I have spent the last two weeks in the library with. I know you’re not my biggest fan but do you listen to anything I say?”
“That’s great. That’s really great. Whilst I have been sat waiting on you to make a decision, you have been off galivanting and flirting with a man called Jude?” He kept his tone neutral. Purposefully neutral. Weaponised neutrality. He wouldn’t be the one to throw away weeks of built-up civility. He wouldn’t be the one to act rashly or mess anything up. That role was saved for me and me alone. The silly little human he was bound to.
“We haven’t been galivanting; we have been doing our course paper.”
“But you have been flirting.”Not a question.
“I was working,” I said, my voice raising somewhat; the need for Thallor to understand barrelling to the front of my mind. “And Jude flirts with everyone, I’m sure.”
“And yet this male has askedyouon a date?”Why do you sound so angry?There was no way he truly cared about this. The trivial pursuits of a human, whom he hadn’t given so much as a second glance until this point. I looked up at him tofind him staring at me, his eyes boring into mine the way they had when we’d first met. Unyielding. Unrelenting. Pulse inducing.
“Yeah, I guess he has. Is it so difficult to imagine someone enjoying my company? Do you find me so utterly intolerable that you could not imagine anyone else taking an interest in me?” My tone was cold. Colder than it needed to be. Colder than the ice-covered breakfast waffles I’d just pulled out of a box and shoved in the toaster.
There was a pause.
