I very consciously don’t burst out laughing. That’s not what professional Elliot does. But in that instant, I decide I’d follow Maisie into war. She’s evil, and I love that for her. “Nah, she just likes her daddy.” I pat her again. “Don’t you?” I coo at her.
Maisie yips.
When Chad finally leaves after I convince him that Maisie doesn’t have a hidden Call of Duty stage detector or something along those lines. I immediately purged his useless words from my brain.
I march to the reception to find Ashley sipping her second cup of coffee. I glare at her until she produces another one from under the desk and hands it over. Satisfied, I go to my office to eat my sad salad while reading the files of the next three patients of the day.
My phone vibrates midway through file two.
Y is it soooo hot today!???
I look at the text, then up at the sender's name.
Nicholas Harper Oliver’s Friend.
Why the fuck is he texting me? And what reply is he hoping for? We ended it so nicely. A clean break. Easy, simple. We went on one date.One. And now he wants to text?
It’s not even a conversational text. He wants to continue talking about the weather? The thing I talk about with my clients so they don’t realize I’m rude as fuck? The thing people use to fill awkward silences in mandatory conversations?
What is wrong with this man? And what self-respecting man in his thirties uses three question marks in a text? Sure, Sam does it, and Oliver most of the time. But I’ve come to realize that with them, the frustration of knowing the text won’t be answered takes the form of punctuation.
What excuse does Nicholas have? And the text in itself doesn’t make any sense. It’s always hot here. Did hejustmove to the city? He did not, as we established thefirsttime we talked about the fucking weather.
My phone has gone dark on the table. I tap on it and lookat the offending text again.
What if it was meant for someone else, and now he doesn’t know what to do? Knowing him, he’d just strike up a conversation completely unbothered by the mistake. He wouldn’t care, I’m just a guy he went out on a date withonce.
Or maybe he hasn’t even realized he has texted the wrong person yet. Maybe he’s waiting for someone to text back about the hotness of the weather. Another werewolf, probably.
Heshoulddate another werewolf, then they can have long chats about hot weather and LA temperatures.
Ashley opens the door, startling me. “The next patient is— why are you staring at your phone? Oh my god, did you get a death threat?” she gasps.
“What?” I ask, genuinely concerned, my eyebrows going up. That’s a whole new layer to Ashley.
“You look so serious. I thought something interesting like that happened,” she says, sounding disappointed.
“A death threat, though?” I tilt my head.
She shrugs. “Then you can call your Detective McMuscles,” she says.
“What were you saying when you stormed into my office without knocking Ashley?” I prompt. I don’t want to encourage her when I'd just gotten her to shut up about this.
“The next patient is here,” she says and walks out, making a production of slowly closing the door behind her.
***
At night, I'm back at the club. It’s just as loud and just as annoying. I don’t find Drew inside, so I amble straight to the back alley.
But he isn’t there either, so I wait as inconspicuously as possible. I need to maintain cover, that’s very important. I can’t stand out. That’s the only reason I flick out a cigarette. I didn’t want to. And I can quit whenever I want. I just hadonethe entire day yesterday. I’m not falling off the wagon.
“Back already?” Drew's voice startles me. I internally berate myself for not paying enough attention.
He has a huge smile on his face that makes me want to grab his hair and smash his head against the wall. “What can I say? I just couldn’t stay away,” I say instead. Fuck, I need to do something about my sleep situation.
“Same?” he asks, taking his cigarette out and lighting it.
“You know it,” I say and pass the money to him.
