Page 93 of Marked by the Demigod

And Trixie stares, stone faced, at Aimes, and Aimes, desperately not wanting to do anything resembling giving in, stares back.

The waiter approaches the table, then immediately backs off.

Aimes breaks the eye contact to wave him over, and he walks back, holding his order pad like a shield. "I'd like some coffee and the Cali omelet, please?" She smiles a bit too widely.

The waiter seems to be taken aback by her too much smile, and Trixie coughs a laugh. "And I'll get the French toast."

Without even saying a word, the waiter nods, and escapes, as if the table is way too tense for his shift.

Aimes and Trixie share a brief smile at his terror, then Trixie coughs again. "Aimes..." She starts, and for a moment Aimes thinks that she's going to chicken out of the conversation, but she squares her shoulders and soldiers on. "I feel like the last few days have been a trick."

Out of a lack of anything else to do, Aimes fiddles with the too fancy sugar packets. "Welcome to my life." She mumbles. "It's been like that since it started."

Trixie quirks an eyebrow. "What, with the whole heart thing? And hospital room in Sherman Oaks?"

"Not that bad, no." She reassures. "Just...the people tricking me thing."

There's a lull in the conversation.

"Trixie, he can teleport." Aimes blurts out. "He can teleport and the fucking hole in his chest is almost gone now." She sits back, as if the words took off a weight. "Trixie, he took me to Poland. He's taken me to France. For food."

"Can he take you to outer space?" She breathes, leaning forward.

Aimes blinks, because the answer is probably, but she doesn't know any of the specifics and that terrifies her. "I don't know, and I really don't want to ask!" She says, leaning forward as well. "When I met his brothers, they melted my shoes to the ground. I have no fucking clue what they can do."

"This is like...out of a bad Harry Potter fanfic." Trixie says, her eyes lighting up. "Think of all the stuff you can get away with no consequences."

"Trixie, no." Aimes says, a strange relief filling her. "I'm...I'm pretty sure that's unethical."

Trixie shrugs, and the waiter brings them their food. "And Rocky saw you together?" Her voice is tinged with a barely covered glee.

"Saw us, almost didn't notice us, and then...Jake... tried to out smarm him. Rocky looked like he was gonna shit himself."

"Good." Trixie declares. "You call him Jake?"

"Out in public. His name is weird, it's...safer." Her heart much lighter than it has been in a while, Aimes eats her breakfast.

After a moment, Trixie looks back up. "So how do you divorce him?" She asks, her face completely casual.

Aimes can just feel her throat closing up around her omelet, so she coughs, taking the moment to calm her suddenly shaking hands. "Um," she says, eloquent.

"I mean, you didn't ask for it, he almost got you killed, and he's some sort of all powerful mythical creature," Trixie says, pushing her food around. "This isn't exactly good for you."

Her heart pounding, Aimes puts her fork down. "It's not possible," she says, strangely relieved she has that answer. "It's some sort of Harry Potter magical thing."

"So we file a restraining order. Kristopher can help with that, he does those all day." Her voice is impassive. "I'm not sure how it can be enforced, with the whole..." she mimes the teleportation. "But I'm sure we can make it work."

Aimes blinks furiously at her, which Trixie just bears without any change in expression. "That's not..."

"That's not what?" Trixie says, quick. "You can't mean to keep things how they are?"

Aimes forces herself to swallow again, and her friend doesn't let up on her staring.

Cause while she doesn't want things how they are, of course not, it's miserable most of the time, deep down it's like...it's like him being gone more would just be worse.

But he had put her in a hole in the ground, had kept her away from all this, and tried to keep her in the dark. He hadn't even wanted to ever contact her, have her never know who he was.

Shivering, she hugs herself. He had even not wanted her to have his phone number, or know when she would see him again.

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