Okay, it’s the super hot one, I think.
“It would help if you’d stop saying things like ‘kill it off,’ and ‘destroy them,’ so loudly,” I say. “You’re making the people in here uncomfortable.”
“They don’t look uncomfortable.” He frowns. “They look happy. That one just kissed her hand and then blew on it.”
I grab his hand, distracting him from the poor teenage targets unwittingly courting death itself. “Focus.”
He stares down at where our hands are touching. “On your hand?”
I snatch it away. “Focus on this experience, I mean.” I nudge the burger basket toward him, and then I carefully squirt some ketchup and some mustard on the edge of the basket. “Now, my favorite is a little mustard and a little ketchup, but some people even like mayo.” I can’t help making a face.
“You don’t like this mayo.” He frowns.
I shake my head. “Not at all. I think it’s made with eggs, but I swear it looks. . .” I scrunch my nose. “White blobs are just not appealing.”
“Then I think I need to try it.” He looks around. “Where do we find it?”
I stand, sigh heavily, and head back over to see if I can grab some mayonnaise. I do manage to find one container, sitting in the corner by the ketchup, and I bring it over.
Xolotl’s smiling, and I realize he was making a joke. “I don’t eat, Whitney. If you don’t like it, there’s no chance I will.” He inclines his head. “Consume your fuel so we can go.”
I cross my arms and glare down at him. “No.” I huff. “If you’re mocking me, then you really do have to try a bite.” I reach over, flip the top of his bun off, squirt some ketchup and them some mustard on it, and then slam the top back on. “And for being snarky, you get to eat it the exact same way as me.”
He stares at me, incredulous.
I prepare my burger, then I pick mine up, and I pick his up, leaning over the table, and hold his in front of his mouth. His cobalt blue eyes stare up into mine. “Whitney.”
Something about the way he says my name sends a shiver up my spine. “Eat it.”
He keeps staring at me.
“Now.” I shove the burger closer.
His mouth opens, and when he closes it back over the burger, the edge of his lip closes over my finger, his unnecessarily sharp teeth grazing my pinkie.
“Ow,” I say, but my heart’s not in it. I’m distracted, somehow, by his eyes on mine, and his mouth on my hand. Stupidly distracted.
But Xolotl looks a little dazed too. Part of me wonders whether he feels it too—the strangely charged connection between us. It’s different than the tug of the bond. It’s bizarre and confusing. Was he affected by the same jolt of excitement that I was when we touched?
Xolotl smiles then, like he’s answering my question, and I stand stupidly over him, still holding the burger against his mouth. His hands close over it slowly, his big, warm fingers wrapping around mine. “What on earth is this?” He’s still staring right at me, and I know. He feels it too. Then his eyes dart toward the burger, and he licks his lips. “This is amazing.”
Right.
The food.
Which is exactly what I wanted.
In the end, he eats eleven more burgers before we leave. Even the staff who work there are shocked. But I’m wondering whether my plan, surprisingly more successful than I expected, might still be a very stupid one. Xolotl liked the burger, but he doesn’t seem any less homicidal.
Me, on the other hand?
I’m afraid I might actually be swooning over Cobalt Blue, and that’s very very bad. I need to find a phone and call a friend stat.
While I still can be saved.
10
Xolotl
