"Little Ris wanted to be a ballerina. She didn’t know then that most of the big companies are almost exclusively nymphs. Also, she’s never taken a single lesson in her life, so it’s a good thing she went to school for something sensible. Now big Ris can afford to go see the ballet in Bridgeton and go to the art museum whenever she wants."
"Oh, same, totally. Well, not the ballet part. I absolutely didnothave aspirations to be a tech bro growing up. We had one computer, a big, clunky, second-hand desktop, and if I was on it for more than an hour or two, the motor would run so hard it sounded like a plane was taking off. It was in our living room, two feet away from my mom's chair, so it wasn't like I was even able to do anything fun on it, you know? No horny lagomorph hot tub chatrooms I could creep in pretending to be a thirty-two-year-old werewolf doctor. She was right there, so it was homework and pre-teen cock-blocking and nothing else."
She doubled over in laughter again, her breath hitching each time she tried and failed to speak. "That is averyspecific example," she wheezed. "I, uh, havedoubtsthat you weren’t doing exactly that every time she left the room."
"Yeah, maybe that was too specific of an example," he grinned, "I learned the importance of clearing the web browser and cache very early. But, my point is, it was just something that happened. But I like the company I’m with, I like my co-workers, and more importantly, it pays well enough to support the stuff I am passionate about."
"Like playing in four different bands," she suggested, smiling broadly as he tipped his glass in her direction in agreement. "I totally get that though, I’m the same way. When I leave the office, I don’t need to take it with me. I like the company, I love the people I work with, I’ve made really good friends there." She smiled wryly, imagining Lurielle and Silva, and even Dynah, with all her faults. "They’re just work friends, and I know that’s supposed to mean less, and we’re not super close, but . . . I don’t know," she shrugged, sipping her champagne. "I don’t really know how to make friends as an adult."
"Right?" he agreed animatedly, making her laugh again. "How in Hades are you supposed to make friends as an adult?! We lived in an apartment when I was a kid, and I was friends with everyone. The old troll down the hall with all the cats, the building super, every kid in the building. If they lived there, I would be friends with them. And apparently I got into my head that that's how you make friends? And then you go off to school and it’s the same. I was friends with all the guys I shared a house with, we were friends with the girls next-door, the house behind ours. Everyone in the vicinity, we were friends."
"Same," she agreed. "Proximity-based relationships, hence why all I have now is work friends."
"Right! Flash forward to adulthood, I'm living in an apartment in Bridgeton, and at the end of the hall there's a guy who looks like he's around my age, another orc. So of course my friend-meter goes off. I can admit now, all these years later, that the events that followed were tantamount to harassment."
Ris could barely breathe, she was laughing so hard,again!she thought, trying and failing to imagine anyone not wanting to be friends with the funny, verbose orc.
"You know, here he is, just being a normal adult, and then here’s me, popping out from behind the dumpster with pizza every time he comes home from work and trapping him in conversation in the hallway. I literally harassed Tate into being my friend. But," he paused to wink at her devilishly, "again—serendipity. Otherwise, I’d not have been in the Pixie tonight."
"So . . . four bands."
He nodded earnestly, eyes crinkling. "Mhm, four different genres of music."
"So music is your main passion then?"
His brow furrowed and lips curled around his tusks as his face scrunched in consideration.
"It’s definitely a passion, but I don’t know if I can call it my main passion? I love anthropology and cultural studies. I could spendweeksin the museums that cover ancient civilizations. Oh! I took a class in sumi-e painting last summer, the oni who taught it was incredible, and I’ve been collecting little postcards with that style of art since. Reading? Reading is probably my main passion, I guess? I would rather spend money on books than food. I’ve been collecting books my whole life . . . I’ve also gotten into astronomy in the last few months? I-I have a lot of hobbies." He chortled nervously, rubbing his neck in what she decided was an adorably self-deprecating way. "I guess that’s probably weird."
"Not weird," she corrected, smiling broadly as she shook her head, excitement thrumming through her veins. It was as if her FWB list had taken on sentiency in the form of the handsome orc across the table. "You know, you’re not likeanyof the other orcs I know," she grinned, giving him her best twinkle over the rim of her champagne flute. "Especially the ones around here."
A black brow raised and his head cocked curiously. "Hmm. I suppose I could say the same thing about you? You’re not what I’d normally expect from an elf. You’re right, I’m probably not a ‘typical’ orc, I didn’t grow up with a clan or speaking orcish. To be honest, almost everything I know about Orcish culture is from books or second hand, it’s not really my lived experience. But orcs aren’t a monolith. Are elves? Does that mean you’re busy playing the harp and croquet on weekends when you’re not sightseeing?"
Her cheeks heated at his words, uncomfortable in the knowledge that he was right, her stomach flipping at the assumption that she was just another tourist, there for anonymous sex with the local nudists, maybe a bit of shopping between.Aren’t you though?He wasn’t wrong, she admitted to herself before squaring her shoulders. She’d come to the resort to get laid, and she didn't have anything to be ashamed of, not really. Everyone came here for the same thing, after all, and the orcs benefitted from the relationship just as much as the tourists.He’s not wrong though.
"Hardly. My folks didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up." She shrugged, swallowing the rest of her glass. She didn't need to be ashamed of that either. "They sent me to a good school, but there wasn’t a lot of money for extras. I guess I didn't grow up like most elves."
"Well, there you go," he hummed, refilling her glass. "We’re not what people expect us to be. Two of my closest friends are orcs who don’t belong to clans either. And I know folks have a lot of assumptions about what elves are like, but how much of it is true?I don’t know, I just think maybe those expectations aren’t really fair. My mom worked at the museum when I was growing up. Always loved ancient history and civilizations. She wanted to be a docent, but they wouldn’t hire orcs for anything other than security at the time. A friend of a friend eventually got her a job in the gift shop, and she made sure I was in every kid’s program they offered, but it was never what she wanted to be doing, and she knew those exhibits inside and out."
She nodded, heat moving up her long ears. "You’re right, that’s not fair of me. My mom and I are professional thrifters. When I was in school we would drive two hours away to hit the consignment shops, far enough away from home that no one would see us. I had designer shoes and bags just like all my friends, and it never occurred to them to wonder why I wasn’t playing croquet at the club on weekends. I guess I meant . . . you’re different from the orcs I’ve met here. Most of these guys treat everyone like meat."
"Okay, thatisprobably fair to a degree," he chuckled, shrugging. "But everyone is here for the same thing, aren’t they? So how much of that is a self-fulfilling prophecy? I could tell myself all elves are just looking to get laid, right? Then I come to a resort party and find a drop-dead gorgeous elf like yourself, and we both go home satisfied. Is that all you are, or did we both find what we were looking for?"
He’d leaned over the table again, and without realizing it, she had as well, until his face was nearly touching hers. He was right, and shehatedadmitting it . . . but he was right. She’d gone looking for a weekend of anonymous sex, and she’d found it in ready supply. The exact experience she’d been hoping for.And you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.
"So I guess the question," he murmured, near enough that she could feel his heat, "is if you had such a terrible time before, Nanaya, why did you come back?"
Ris blinked. There was a hint of knowing in the question that she didn’t like, playing at the corners of his easy smile. "Who said I had a bad time? I had the time I went looking for. Don’t recall ever saying I regret it. And how wouldyouknow?" A bit of fire flared in her veins at his presumption. "Were you there? Were you at . . . the pool bar?" She felt an uncomfortable prickle move up her spine as she asked the question, knowing he hadn’t been. She’d seen him the morning she went jogging, she was positive, but she hadn’t gone to the little black-bricked bar on the last visit, and if he hadn’t been at the pool, then he must have been . . . "You were at the bonfire?"
She thought of what he must have seen—her, on her knees in the grass, being taken roughly by the two huge orcs, used and discarded before they moved onto the next tourist. When she looked up, Ainsley was grinning with that same broad, knowing smile, and her chest folded in on itself in embarrassed disappointment. She knew she was blushing all the way up to the tips of her long, pointed ears, her normal bravado failing her as her stomach twisted. She didn't care about a single one of the nameless orcs who’d used her for their pleasure the night before, or on the last trip, but she didn't like the thought ofthisorc thinking of her poorly.Who cares if he does? If he was there, he was looking to get laid, like everyone else. You had fun, and you don't have anything to be ashamed of.
"You were beautiful," he interrupted her whirling thoughts. "So confident. You knew exactly what you wanted...like I said, refreshing."
Fire flooded her face, even as his words mollified her embarrassment, slightly. "I don’t remember seeing you," she shot back. "You just like to watch? Were you jerking off behind a tree or something?" His laughter echoed around the small terrace, his shoulders shaking beneath the black jacket he wore. Ris pursed her lips, waiting.
"No! I was walking back to my car from the Pixie," he shrugged with another cocky grin. "Knew there was some sort of party going on, cut through the field to see if it was my scene. It wasn’t, but you certainly were."
Her stomach flipped again, wondering if he was sincere. His gaze had been locked onto her from the moment she’d walked into the bar that night, despite the fact that the satyress and her friends had been right there . . .
