He is wearing a leather jacket. He has a man-bun. He looks exactly the same, and I feel my stomach drop.
"Wow," Chad says, and he is looking at Narod now, his eyes dragging up and down in a way that makes my skin crawl. "This is... wow. You are really leaning into the whole 'weird fantasy phase,' huh?"
Narod's hand goes rigid under mine.
CHAPTER 4
NAROD
The man approaches our table, and I feel something inside my chest pull tight and cold.
He does not look at me. Not once. His eyes are locked on Livia, as her entire body goes rigid, the way her shoulders pull up and her spine straightens like she is bracing for impact, and I know, instantly and with absolute certainty, that this man has hurt her before.
The probability of this interaction ending peacefully drops to approximately seven percent.
"Chad," Livia says, and her voice is flat and brittle, and I hear forced politeness that she uses when she is trying very hard not to show weakness. "Hi."
"Hi yourself," Chad says, and he leans against our table, his hand braced on the polished wood in a way that feels deliberate and invasive, like he is marking territory. He is still looking at Livia. He has not acknowledged my presence beyond that initial, dismissive glance. "I didn't know you were still going to this place. I thought you said it was too expensive for your budget."
I feel my jaw tighten.
Livia pulls her hand back from mine, and I feel the loss of contact like a physical ache. She folds her hands in her lap, as herfingers twist together, the small, anxious gesture that she does when she is calculating risk.
"It's fine," she says. "I can afford it."
"Sure," Chad says, and his tone is dripping with condescension. "I mean, I guess you finally got that promotion you were always talking about, huh? Or are you still doing the same boring spreadsheet stuff?"
My hand tightens around my glass. I hear the faint creak of the crystal under my palm, and I force myself to ease my grip before I shatter it again.
"I like my job," Livia says.
"Yeah, I'm sure you do," Chad says, and he finally, finally looks at me, and his eyes drag up and down my frame with the kind of lazy, dismissive assessment that humans use when they are trying to establish dominance. "Is this, like, a friend of yours? Security? I didn't know they let bouncers sit at the tables."
I do not respond. I am running calculations.
Chad's height: approximately six feet. Weight: one hundred and seventy-five pounds, based on visible muscle mass and body composition. Bone density: average human male, likely weakened slightly by poor posture and lack of adequate calcium intake, judging by the way his wrist is angled against the table.
Time required to physically remove him from this establishment: four seconds.
Probability of causing permanent structural damage if I lose control of my strength: ninety-three percent.
Probability of Livia being impressed by a violent outburst on a first date: zero percent.
I take a slow, measured breath. I adjust my glasses. I do not stand up yet.
"I am not a bouncer," I say, and I keep my voice calm and level and polite, the same tone I use when I am explainingactuarial tables to clients who do not understand compound interest. "I am Livia's date."
Chad blinks. He looks at me again, and this time his gaze lingers, and I see the exact moment when his brain processes the information and decides that I am, in fact, not human.
"Oh," he says, and his mouth curves into a smirk that makes my tusks ache with the effort of keeping my jaw relaxed. "Oh, wow. Okay. So you're really doing the whole... fantasy thing. That's, uh, that's bold, Liv. I mean, I always knew you were a little weird, but this is next-level."
Livia's face goes white.
The probability of peaceful resolution drops to zero.
"Chad," Livia says, and her voice is shaking now, and I can hear the humiliation underneath it, the way she is trying so hard to stay calm and controlled and not let him see how much he is hurting her. "You should go."
"I'm just saying," Chad continues, and he is leaning closer now, his hand still braced on the table, his body angled toward Livia in a way that makes every instinct in my body scream at me to move, to act, to remove this threat. "You always said you wanted someone normal. Someone who could, like, take you to nice places and introduce you to their friends without it being weird. And now you're sitting here with—" He gestures vaguely at me, and his lip curls. "—this? I mean, come on. You're better than this."
