Page 5 of Marked by the Demigod

He’s a fresh-faced college freshman type with bright green hair but the look in his eye is not the typical college freshman jeer.

She flashes him a smile, and a look of profound alarm crosses his face. He buries his nose in one of the in-flight magazines

* * *

The momentshe steps into her Uber at LAX she flicks open her phone and calls Trixie.

“Have you finally gotten back?”

Trixie is her best friend, in the way single adults in their late twenties have best friends. And she takes care of her cats when she’s gone on all these conferences.

“Finally. And no more traveling for a week and a half, unless Evan calls out sick for the Texas bit.” Aimes cradles the phone on her shoulder and digs in her purse as the driver pulls out of the airport loop.

There’s a crackle and a pause on the line. “Do you think he’d call out sick?”

“It’s Evan, he hardly calls out sick.”

“Can we please please do a lunch or something this week. I need it, so much stuff happened you have no idea.”

That’s the other thing about Trixie. Her life is interesting.

"Tomorrow?" Aimes asks, glancing at her wristwatch. For no reason. All her schedule and stuff is on her phone; the wristwatch is there so she can refer to it in front of librarians.

"Yes, yes, you have no idea the shit that went down, it's so weird you won't believe." There’s an awkward lull, as the Uber driver inches through the Los Angeles traffic.

Trixie coughs over the phone. "Was your trip okay?"

One car over on the freeway, a young woman stares at Aimes. Just stares. Aimes studiously looks away, facing away from the window. "Too many librarians, not enough free time to see the sights."

"You were in Kansas City...are there sights?"

"Sure?" And immediately, the image of the stranger - Jake - sitting over her, long hair in his eyes, pops in her mind. "I mean, there were pretty things."

"Heard from Rocky?" Trixie' voice softens, as if gentling will help the question go down smoother.

Aimes forces a laugh, it's about as fake as one could expect. "Not a peep."

* * *

Her cats don't givea shit when she opens the door, but cats never really do.

She checks her phone again, no text from Rocky. Or from the random fuck buddy, but she can't expect anything from that. It'd be nice, but, you know. Practicality.

The thought of him disquiets her, though, as she unpacks by dumping her dirty clothes into her hamper.

Not that their sex wasn't fantastic, it was sex. But it's like the sudden and energetic sex, after months and months of nothing, elevated the status of the night in her head.

She flops onto her bed and sighs.

She should've gotten Jake's number herself, instead of the other way around.

* * *

Trixie sits at the restaurant,her blond hair curled within an inch of its life and her clothes pressed perfect. Aimes feels visibly jet lagged next to her.

It's that inevitable pause, after the greetings, where two adults have that moment where they have no clue what to talk about.

"They fired me." Trixie bursts out, at the same time as

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