Page 19 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

For the first time in our entire work relationship in the lab, it’s me who is scurrying off to get some space from Art. Only it’s not because I’m shy. It’s totally because if I don’t, I will definitely kiss him. Or more than that. Working with his sexy tentacles after I know what they can do to me might be a new level of torture.

Art

I have watched an adequate number of rom coms to know that dining at one’s place of residence is an effective mating ritual. That is the primary reason I invite Dean Miller over to my apartment for dinner. The secondary reason is a suspicion that if I don’t, he’ll invite me to eat at a restaurant with him. I’ve had quite enough of interacting with humans I don’t know, thank you very much.

Lisa texts me while I’m setting the table and asks me if I want to go to the bookstore with her. I message her back.

No. I am eating dinner with Dean Miller tonight. Then we will probably have sex.

She sends me a smiley emoji.That sounds pleasant.

I set down a second fork next to Dean Miller’s plate and send her a thumbs up. I’m not allowed to use a thumbs up emoji with people at work because Frank says it’s passive aggressive, but Lisa doesn’t mind.

Another message pops up at the bottom of the screen.I would like to come over and meet Dean Miller.

I send a second thumbs up.But you must leave after five minutes. Otherwise it may impact the likelihood of sexual intercourse later in the evening.

I don’t know how long this trial mate situation with Dean Miller will last, and I don’t want to waste a moment with him. Every time he brushed my hand or got close to me in the lab today, my heart raced like I’d just sprinted up a hill. But my metachrosis didn’t kick in after the first time. Dean Miller excites me and steadies me at the same time.

I’ve never met anyone who could do that before.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Lisa.

Five minutes should be adequate.

I am not surprised when Lisa walks through my kitchen just as I finish setting the table. As long as she texts me ahead of time, I don’t mind her using the spare key I gave her to watch over my plants on the rare occasions when I have to travel for work. My apartment has the exact same floor plan as Lisa’s, but our spaces couldn’t be more different. All my windows are lined with potted plants. Some are on the floor, while others are hanging from the ceiling or carefully arranged on the shelving I had installed in front of the window with the best light exposure.

Among the many potted plants on my coffee tables in the living room, I have bookcases and reading nooks. It’s a labyrinth of sorts, with far more furniture than the interior decorator recommended. But I like getting lost in it. I feel safe here with my books and my plants.

“Why do you like this human?” Lisa asks.

“He is visually pleasing,” I say. But it isn’t just that. At least not anymore. “He is also kind and of above average intelligence, for a human.”

She nods. “That is a nice combination of attributes.”

“It is.”

I don’t tell her I enjoy the way Dean Miller tastes. That’s a detail I want to keep all to myself. It’s a secret that makes me smile every time I think about it.

There’s a knock at the door. It’s a little surreal to walk toward my front door and open it to find Dean Miller on my doorstep. He’s always seemed like this beautiful, distant man who could never be interested in someone as awkward as I am. And yet, here he is. He smiles at me, and my stomach flip flops.

“Good evening,” he says.

“Good evening. You have a very nice smile. I enjoy looking at it.”

His smile widens and his eyes almost sparkle. That isn’t something human eyes should be able to do, but Dean Miller’s eyes definitely are.

“I’m Lisa, his cousin,” she says. I didn’t notice her approaching the front door. She stands next to me, quietly assessing Dean Miller. She stares at him for longer than is socially appropriate. This is what she does to her opponents prior to a chess match. No wonder they’re all terrified of her.

Dean Miller turns his twinkly smile in her direction and holds out his right hand. His left hand is holding a big paper bag, probably with our dinner in it. “Hi. I’m Dean, Art’s boyfriend.”

She raises her eyebrows in question.

“Temporary mate? Romantic partner?” Dean Miller guesses.

“You are aesthetically pleasing. I can understand why Art had sex with you,” she says.

He bites back his smile. “Thank you. Um, can I come in?”

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