I suppose the roses did make this seem like a date. But…wait. That’s not what this is, right? I thought the goal was to take meand Jules out to dinner. See the town. With Jules tagging along, I didn’t anticipate there being even a hint of romance.
“No, pumpkin. Nic and I are just good friends.”
Nic’s hand pauses in mid-air at my words as he lifts a thermos out of the basket. His expression is unreadable, but the pause makes me think he didn’t love my answer.
“That’s right. Just friends,” he adds, the corner of his mouth curving into a half-smile.
I guess that settles that.
There are a handful of people in the park, and I take a moment to watch them. There’s a young couple making out in the gazebo, high school age, I’m guessing. I spot Vlad the vampire on a wooden bench in the far corner, ripping off pieces of bread and tossing them to a murder of crows hovering around his feet. Then there’s the father holding his daughter’s hands as she does that stiff toddler stomp across the grass while Mom snaps photos. They look human, so they must be witches or shifters of some kind.
“Mom,” Jules says in warning, then knocks my hand away from my face.
Was I mapping? I hadn’t even realized. That’s the biggest issue, though, isn’t it? I do it subconsciously.
“Everything okay?” Nic asks, his worried eyes scanning my face.
“Yeah, it’s just…” How do I explain this? Do I want to? It’s not exactly a turn on to hear the person you’re fucking has a tendency to pick their face until it bleeds. “It’s nothing.”
“She was mapping,” Jules offers. “That’s what you call it, right?”
“Jules,” I scold, then mouth,Enough.
I genuinely don’t think she was blowing my cover to make me look bad. She’s at that age where she’s still discovering the variety of ways to feel embarrassed in front of the opposite sex,and I don’t think she understands how much shame I carry with this disorder, despite dermatillomania being somewhat common, especially among women.
Thankfully, Nic was looking down into the picnic basket. “What’s that?” he asks when his gaze lifts to mine.
“Nothing,” I say, hoping he can sense the finality in my tone. “It’s nothing.”
He drops the subject by pouring steaming hot chocolate from a large thermos into paper cups. Then he sets out three paper plates. Wrapped in aluminum foil is a big, soft pretzel that he breaks into three big pieces, and pulls out small containers of what looks to be dipping sauces for us to share.
“Did you make this?” I ask after moaning around the first gooey bite.
“Can’t take credit for the pretzel,” he says, “but I did make the sauce.”
There are three, which include a thick grainy mustard, a cream cheese with a brown-orange tint, and what I’m going to guess is honey.
Jules tries the cream cheese sauce, while I dip my pretzel piece into the honey. While we’re chewing, she meets my gaze with panic and disgust. There’s a sharp tingling at the tip of my nose, and my stomach churns the longer I chew. We don’t spit out our food, but we chew quickly and throw back as much water as possible.
“Nic, whatisthat?”
He jerks back, shock and confusion twisting his sweet green face. “It’s our new spicy maple syrup. I put it in its own little cup and mixed it with cream cheese.” His eyes dart between us. “No good?”
I shake my head while plastering on a sympathetic smile. “It was a good try, but I think there might be a bit too much spice and not enough syrup. What are the ingredients?”
“Um, maple syrup, red pepper flakes, sriracha, and this hot pepper sauce Anton bought last time he was in Cedar Grove, South Carolina.”
Fuck. I know the answer before I even ask the question. “What kind of pepper sauce?”
“Something reaper, I think he said.”
I take another swig of water. “Likely the Carolina Reaper, which is one of the spiciest peppers in the world.”
“Oh, shit.” Nic grimaces. “So he should leave that out next time, right?”
I place my hand on his and rub circles over his palm. “Nic, I don’t know what the taste buds of the monsters in town are like, but if you serve this sauce to a human, one burp could set the whole bar on fire.”
I watch his face fall, and it cuts through my chest like a rusty knife.
