Page 165 of Sigils & Spells

“What?” I said.

“What?” she said. “You first.”

“I–I was just saying thank you. For letting me shower and lending me clothes and stuff." I stared at her. “Did you just ask me on a date?”

“I did, yes.” Alice didn’t take her eyes off the road.

“Why?”

“Should I be insulted, or are you being self-deprecating?”

“Definitely the second one.” I hooked my thumb back in the direction of Blaze’s farm. “You just found me naked and covered in horse dirt.”

“Yeah, but I know what you look like most of the time. and…” She shrugged. “What can I say, Julian, I like the unknown. You, sir, are an enigma. One I want to go on a date with.”

There was so much nonchalant confidence in her voice that I couldn't imagine anyone saying no.

I certainly wasn’t about to.

“Um. Yeah. I’d love to.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “How about Rodeo Blaze on Saturday? My roommate is one of the Cowboys, and he’s doing his first Bronc ride.”

“Perfect.” Alice grinned at me, though I wish she hadn’t taken her eyes from the road when the truck swerved. She quickly straightened. “My phone’s in the cupholder. You should put your number in there.”

WEREWOLVES ANONYMOUS

Minho noticedme before the door had even closed behind me. It wasn’t the busiest hour of the day, especially since there was no rodeo tonight, but there were enough people between us that it was startling when Minho’s eyes met mine instantly. It was almost comical watching the mixture of emotions chase around in Minho’s face until he settled on completely confused. Confused because I was dressed like…this, barefoot, and here at all.

I sheepishly made my way to the bar, levering myself onto the stool in front of where he stood.

“Can I get a club soda?”

“What the fuck, Julian?”

Minho rounded the bar looking me up and down.

“So…” I spun the stool slowly to avoid looking at Minho as I said it, “I think I slept walked?”

“I mean, you have before but normally–”

“Oh, there is absolutely no ‘normally’ about this.” I interrupted and told him about my shower and nap, and how the nap had somehow turned into the wildest afternoon of my life. Which, all things considered, was saying a lot.

When I finished the story, Minho looked like he didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or punch me in the face. He settled with none of those and let out a deep sigh that sounded like it started deep down in his soul.

“Julian Sanchez,” he said like a tired dad, “what in the name of all things holy did you drink last night?”

I made a face and rested my chin in my palm, elbow on the bar. “I never said I was smart.”

He rolled his eyes. Minho had a little bit of a cowboy vibe most of the time, but his accent was genuine, and the more frustrated he got, the thicker it was. It was almost always fun to see Minho lean all the way into his cowboy swagger. Minho was the only Korean cowboy in town, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to embrace it.

“On the bright side I have a date with Pickle Girl.”

Minho rubbed his brow with deep exasperation. “Only you.”

My friend went back to his position at the bar, elbow deep in a sudsy sink of dishes. “And don’t think the end of this conversation means I’m gonna drop this. We are taking you to a doctor next week, first chance we get. But I can’t take you home until my shift is over so you’re just going to have to wait.”

“Well I have the patience of a toddler, so…” I made eyes at the host stand, and Minho seemed to read my gesture, and rolling his eyes, got me one of the kids coloring sheets with the three crayons.

To be nice, I ordered a basket of french fries and left him a tip–or I would when we got home and gave him the money for the fries he bought me. I spent the rest of the night eating fries and reminding Minho of the ingredients for various drinks. Minho was the shift manager tonight, so no other coworker or boss came to see my humiliation, and I didn’t have to explain why I was here, dressed like a roller skater from the 70s, when I was allegedly sick in bed.

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