Page 2 of This

“They can digest everything, except for the claws and hair of live prey.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

I let my head rest on the wall behind me and stare up at the mirrored ceiling. “I wondered the same thing when he insisted I watch him feed his snake and explained the entire process.”

“No…” The reflection shows him sticking his foot out of the elevator to keep us on the second floor a little longer.

“All I could think about the entire time was that, less than five feet away from my head, a mouse was being digested.”

His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “On behalf of men everywhere, I am so sorry. You deserve better from us.”

I smile, and he lets the doors shut.

It’s early on a Saturday, leaving the lobby deserted, except for a mailman shoving letters into tenants’ boxes. I stop and dig through my bag for my phone. “Shit, I forgot to charge it.”

“Thank God you have backup this morning.” He pushes one of the glass doors open, holding it for me. “After you.”

I put on sunglasses on my way past. “I’m not getting in a car with you.”

“I’d be worried if you did.” He snags my elbow, redirecting me the other way, and points to a coffee shop across the street. “We’re going to get a coffee, order you an Uber, and you’re going to give me the name of a business within walking distance of wherever you live. That way, when I turn out to be a psycho stalker, you and your loved ones are safe.”

“You won’t just follow me?” I ask.

He shrugs as we step into the street. “I didn’t even think about it until now. But thanks for the idea.”

The floor-to-ceiling windows in the coffee shop provide no relief for my headache, so I leave my sunglasses on as we stand in line.

“You look like a lurker with those on,” he says.

“I’m cool with it.” I give him a once-over. “They make more sense than a stocking cap.”

He drags the ugly olive beanie off his head. The dark hair is longer on top than I would have guessed from what was sticking out underneath. Even after combing his fingers through it, he still looks like he rolled out of someone else’s bed. “Your turn.”

I take off my sunglasses and move forward with the line. “Do you want to stare into my eyes now?”

“Maybe later.”

At the counter, he orders a large black coffee. The barista asks for his name.

“Snake,” he says, watching me out of the corner of his eye. I pretend not to care.

She writes on the cup and turns her attention to me. I order something complicated to make up for his lack of imagination. Eyebrows raised, he waits for my name.

“Angel.”

He covers his mouth with his hand, but his eyes smile. When he reaches for his wallet, I wave him off and toss down cash. “You’re paying for me to get home. At least let me buy your coffee.”

“I’d argue, but that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly, and I have a reputation to uphold with you.”

As we wait, he checks his phone. All the while, he chews on his lip, not even seeming aware of it. I wonder if he’s serious about trying to keep up a persona or if this is the real him. I decide it is, and in three years, when I randomly think about this moment, he will be the exact same person out there in the world as he is right now, standing in front of me.

“Snake,” the barista calls. “And Angel.”

He thanks her and picks up our drinks. Walking out, I take mine from him and slide back on my shades. The Phoenix sun has graduated to blinding and murderous. One of many things I won’t miss. I sip my coffee that ended up mostly sugar and milk as a black SUV pulls up to the curb.

He steps ahead to open the door. “Your carriage.”

“Thank you,” I say, climbing in. “I really appreciate it.”

---