ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE!
10:00 pm
Harper I am not going to warn you again. Pick up your goddamn phone.
A lump formed in my throat as I turn my phone over, turning it off with a soft shuttering sound.
The bar was dead, the kind of quiet that came after closing hours. Soft orange lighting—courtesy of Damien himself—bathed the room in a glow that felt like a dying sunset. Relaxing. Almost… comforting.
“I haven’t seen you in here in a while,” Damien’s voice broke the silence, his tone as smooth as the drink in his hand. He poured himself another shot, tipped it my way with a knowing look, then knocked it back in one go. “What’s going on?”
I couldn’t answer. The moment those words left his mouth, it was like a switch flipped inside me, and suddenly, I wasn’t as fine as I thought I was. My lips quivered as I bit down hard on the bottom one to stop it from betraying me.
God. I could already feel the tears welling up.Damn it.
I glanced up at him, but that was all it took. My chest ached with the weight of everything I’d been holding in, and before I could stop it, tears slipped down my cheeks.
And then? I lost it. Shoulders shaking, strangled sobs escaping from my chest, I buried my face in my hands.
Damien froze, his eyes wide. A curse slipped from his lips as he frantically searched the bar for anything that might help. Then, like some kind of damn hero, he grabbed a stack of napkins and shoved them into my hands as I cried over his pristine bar.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, leaning across the counter. “That bad?”
I clutched the napkins to my face like they were a lifeline, trying to hold it all together as I hunched over the bar. The words wouldn’t come at first—my throat tight with the weight of them. But when they did, it was like a floodgate had been opened.
“H-he cheated on me,” I managed to choke out, the sobs wrecking my body as I finally let the full weight of it sink in.
Damien’s face twisted into something between anger and disgust. A growl rumbled from his chest, low and guttural. “I knew that guy was no good. I told you the first time you brought him in here; I didn’t like the smell of him.”
I blinked through my tears, looking up at him as he stood across from me, his jaw clenched tight, his muscles visibly tense. He looked like he was ready to punch something. Or someone.
“I don’t need ‘I told you so’s’ right now,” I said, forcing the words out through the tightness in my chest. “I need an apartment. Everywhere I look, it’s either unavailable, out of my price range, or it’s some creepy guy looking for ‘female roommates only’.” I sucked in a shaky breath, choking on another sob. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”
Damien sighed as he ran his large hand over his face and down his snout. He paused for a moment, considering something before pulling out his phone.
“Listen,” he said, his voice soft but serious. “There’s an app. It’s called After Hours. It’s not… what you think, but it could help. It’s used by demons and other pheromone-producing beings to meet with therapists, balance their pheromones, that kind of thing. But it pays quick cash, and it is kind of… exclusive.”
My brows furrowed, and I wiped my face with the napkin he’d given me. “Therapy? I don’t… I don’t even have experience—”
“It’s notthatkind of therapy,” he interrupted, glancing away for a second like he was trying to think through something. When he looked back at me, his expression softened, but only just. “I’ll just send you a link,” he added, already typing something into his phone. “You need a referral, but I can vouch for you. And it isn’t like a sex thing unless you want it to be—it’s all about consent, Harp. No pressure.”
Hearing that nickname, even if it wasn’t from Chad, still felt like a jab to the ribs.
I hesitated, glancing at the phone in his hand, unsure. “I don’t know, Damien. I’m not… I’m not sure I’m ready to—”
Before I could finish, he sent the link to my phone. I stared at it for a second, then sighed. It was a blue app with a martini in the middle. “Fine. I’ll download it. It’s not like I can hit rock bottom twice.”
I tapped my screen, the app downloading almost instantly. Damien watched as I entered my information. It asked things like age, weight, height, what my food preferences were, even what kind of things I did for fun. It was oddly specific and intimate.
Once I hit ‘submit,’ the app chimed with a blue check mark, and the screen closed itself.
“What now?” I asked, looking up at Damien.
“Now you wait,” Damien replied, his voice smooth and reassuring. “The app works with a matchmaker demon, so you don’t have to worry about compatibility too much. Once they find someone, you’ll know. Until then, you know you can crash on my couch.”
“Are you sure?”
“Harp, you don’t need to ask. And I would like to think I am better than a creepy guy.”
