I’m not walking all that fast, but I suddenly have to stop and brace myself against the corner of Costa Coffee while I try to suck in enough oxygen. I’m breathing fine, but it doesn’t seem like any of it is getting into my lungs.
When the world stops spinning, I right myself. A harpie clutching a giant latte in her claws looks at me through the window and mouths, “Are you OK?”
I give her a smile and wave off her concern, but the thought that Adam might be on some kind of gruesome countdown is a sobering one. I might not want to date him, but I don’t like the idea of him just dropping dead. For real this time.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to find the zombie responsible for my spiraling thoughts calling, so I swipe to accept, launching straight into my stream of worries without saying hello. “What if the curse is only a short-time thing? What if it ends tomorrow, and you’re just dead instead of undead, hmm? What then?”
He breaks off in the act of greeting me, and there’s a pause on the other end of the line.
“Are you… are you worried about me? Is that what this is?”
“No! That’s not what this is! I’m mad at you for dick-matizing me. Again!”
A tall minotaur in a business suit walking past gives me a strange look and a little more space than necessary.
“Is my dick the only thing you enjoyed?” Adam’s tone is playful, but there’s a hard edge to it I know all too well how to interpret. And isn’t he right to be upset? Aren’t I essentially doing the same thing to him as he did to me—using him for sex or short-term fun only to move on when I’m done?
I open my mouth to yes, be a jerk, but that’s not fair. It’s not even true. My pussy is still trembling at the memory of how well he licked me this morning and neither of those two things would have done much for me without the… what? The connection I feel this time.
That’s different. I sigh. “No.”
“Being inside your pussy was probably the thing I enjoyed least about everything we did this week.”
My footsteps falter, and a business woman in a rush nearly bowls me over, grunting and stepping around me just in time with a curse. “Excuse me?” I rasp into the phone.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just mean everything has been so fucking good. Every single thing. OK, I’m probably exaggerating because I liked it better than cleaning your oven, but I think I just liked holding you again most of all. That, and eating your pussy.”
Oh not fair! My heart is doing odd twisty things inside my chest at the memory of his fingers in my hair this morning. I let out a growl I can’t keep in. “Do you really think it could work if we tried again?”
“Yeah. I do. We’re good together, Jen. There has to be a reason we have so much chemistry in bed.”
I’ve been walking without really thinking about where I’m going, but I round a corner and find myself at the gate to Postman’s Park. I’m drawn in, something inside me seeking the grounding serenity of being surrounded by nature at least for a moment. I’m quiet until I find a spot beneath a large tree where a bench is tucked in the shade.
“You still there, Jen?”
“Yeah.”
There’s another pause. Finally I say, “You really want to do therapy?”
“Yeah.”
I run my hand over my face. Is this something I want to commit to? Not really, but the longer I spend with this new, improved version of Adam, the more things between us have started to feel like an unanswered question. He’s right. “Fine, but you have to take it seriously.”
“Course. What about you?”
“What about me?” I bristle.
“Jen, you heard what that therapist said. If we’re going to make it work, we both have work to do.”
I know it makes logical sense in theory, but I’m not sure the therapist has ever tried to live with someone as annoying as Adam. Still, if he can change and if he’s really going to do this properly… “Yeah. OK. I remember.”
“So… you coming home now?”
I look up into the swaying leaves of the tree and sigh when the rest of my anger drains away as he says the word home. “Yeah.”
SEVENTEEN
Jen
