Page 53 of How Not to Date an Angel

“You did not have torescueme. And you never would have!” he… well,whinedwas the only word that came to Rami’s mind. Julian filled Rami’s wine glass far past polite and grinned. “If anyone, it would’ve been the human you’d rescued.”

“I turn my back for one moment,” Rami mused, waiting until Julian filled his own glass before lifting theirs.

“You don’t have to babysit me; I’m a fully-matured demon,” Julian said, andfloateddown to his seat.

“Maybe if you acted like it, I wouldn’t have to,” Rami said primly.

Julian scoffed and scooted to the edge of his seat to peer at the board. He glanced over, uncertain. “Can I just start anywhere?”

“Of course,” Rami said. “There’s no rules here.”

But that didn’t stop them from plucking up a cracker and some jam with the goat cheese. It didn’t go unnoticed when Julian repeated their selection.

He popped the whole cracker in his mouth and hummed contentedly. Rami pointedly didn’t stare. Not when he swallowed, the long line of his throat moving, Adam’s apple bobbing. And certainly not when he sucked at the side of his thumb to clean the bit of jam from his skin.

“Everything alright, Feathers?” Julian asked.

Rami sipped their wine, gaze dipping to the board. “Peachy. Try this,” Rami said, and pointed out a few different combinations.

No pairings were forbidden enough for the demon, and Rami was plain captivated. They chuckled softly when Julian would wrinkle his nose at something he didn’t like.

His pleased little noises when hedidenjoy something were just as distracting.

“I have to confess,” Julian began, and Rami snapped their attention back to him. “I thought this was a little silly. Snacks for dinner? But it’s pretty good,” he said.

“See? I know a few things,” Rami teased, and sipped their wine, only to realize their glass was empty.

“Refill?” Julian asked, already lifting the bottle before Rami could answer.

“Please,” Rami said politely and held out the dainty glass. The demon’s hand curled confidently around the bottle as he poured, the veins in his hand standing out, and Rami tried not to stare. Failed, probably. But then their glass was filled to an impolite level once more, and Julian was setting the bottle down again.

Rami sipped their wine. They needed it.

They both continued to pick at the board for a while before Julian got tired of the silence and flicked the television on. “What do you watch?”

“I usually don’t; I read,” Rami admitted. “We should pick like we did the other night.”

“Oh, come on, you never watch television? Let me guess,” Julian said, turning to them on the couch and taking them in from nose to toes.

Rami tried desperately not to flush, but felt the heat rushing to their cheeks anyway. Maybe they could blame it on the wine.

“Detective shows? But, like, the British ones with the fancy hats.”

Rami rolled their eyes. “They don’t wear fancy hats.”

“But youdowatch them!” Julian said, leaning closer, excitement swirling in his golden eyes. Rami stared, forgetting to reply.

Then he leaned away, turning back to the television, and Rami sought comfort in their drink once more.

“Let’s see…” Julian murmured. The only sound filling the room was the click of the remote as he navigated the many streaming apps Rami never bothered with.

“How about this?” he asked, and pulled up a show Rami had never heard of.

“Sure,” Rami agreed. They probably wouldn’t pay much attention anyway.

And they were right. In between bouts of murder and interrogations and meddling from a red-headed character withveryaccurate instincts, Rami watched Julian instead.

They tried to piece together the different versions they’d built of him in their head. The demon, of course. Somewhere along the way they’d gotten a reputation, and no one had stopped them from inflating it over the centuries.

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