“Ah, sweet Mal,” I sigh, clapping him on the shoulder and not minding one bit when his leathery black wing buffets me with a twitch. “Of course you are. You’re always fine. I avoid relationships to avoid these sorts of upheavals, and yet they still manage to find me. How do you do it? How do you always seem so drama free?”
He clears his throat again, gazing at my hand on his shoulder for a long moment. “I don’t know.”
“There must be a secret to your success. I look up to you in this regard, you know.” I pat his shoulder and take pity on him, removing the contact since he seems so awkward about it. “Your life is always so peaceful. So simple. Is it because you avoid the fairer sex altogether?”
His eyes trace up to meet mine silently.
“Because if that’s the case, I just don’t think I can do it. How do you live without their softness? Don’t you ever crave the connection of lovemaking, the fleeting burst of ecstasy to make you feel alive?”
“Irish coffee, extra cream.”
“Just a moment.” I pat his shoulder again as I grab my morning treat, which I’d been hoping would sooth the… whatever-it-is I’m feeling towards Grace right now.
Malachite stares at me flatly when I return to his side.
“Give me something, Mal,” I say with a grin. “Help me out and I’ll leave you to your stoic isolation, scouts honor. Not that I was ever a scout.”
He regards me unblinkingly, and then lets out the smallest sigh of defeat. “This is about Grace, isn’t it.”
“She is the loveliest female in all creation, but I’ve been with plenty of lovely females. And yet I can’t seem to…” I pause, feeling something strange swirling in my chest. “Why doesn’t she want me? I gave her everything she asked for last night. I know she was satisfied.”
“Good gods, why are you telling me this…” Mal whispers, his eyes widening at the floor for a moment before he turns back to me. “How am I supposed to know? Ask her.”
I wave my hand. “She already explained her reasoning. It makes perfect sense, and I won’t push her.”
What little emotion that had leaked into his face falls away, and he stares at me again. I quirk a grin as his silence makes the direct juxtaposition of my own words obvious.
“Alright, fine, not whydoesn’t she want me, then.”
“Cold brew, no ice, no cream, no sugar.”
Malachite grabs his coffee, and I dart a quizzical look at it as we walk towards the door. “Not even any ice?” I ask, as I sip my spiked coffee. “Really?”
“I like it,” he says simply.
“It’s just that I can’t seem to stop thinking about her rejection.” I jump back into my conversation naturally, which seems to disconcert the introverted gargoyle as we exit into the sunlight. “It’s more than just disappointment at our physical connection being cut short, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. It’s nagging at me.”
“Perhaps you like her.”
“Of course I like her, she’s becoming a very good friend.”
“Romantically.”
“Mal, please,” I huff, my heart skipping a beat with how… silly that thought is. “Let’s be reasonable, here.”
He mutters something under his breath, and then stops, turning to look at me fully. I pause too, tilting my head at the slight intensity shift in his expressionless expression, waiting to see what wisdom he might bestow.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he says flatly. And then he just stares at me.
I stare back for a second more.
“Well, this has been enlightening.” I smile, clap him on the arm, and turn away with a salute of my drink. “Have a good day.”
“Oh, thank the gods…” I hear him mutter under his breath at the ending of our conversation, and I chuckle as I stroll back to my car.
Good old Mal, he’s a great sport, and at least he helped me narrow down further regarding what isn’t the issue here. Romantic entanglement… Please, how unlikely.
But I can’t stop nagging at the thought, questioning my reaction. Now that I’m alone again, my thoughts turn back to breakfast, and I can once more feel the way my stomach dropped once I realized where our conversation was heading this morning, my heartbeat speeding up as if adrenaline shooting through my system was any way to deal with the situation. Adrenaline is for sex, fear, and excitement. But we weren’t having sex, and there was nothing to be excited about.