Page 95 of Fake Dating a Human 101

“I already told you; I rescue puppies from trees and save babies.” Luc lifted his goblet and took a long drink. “Oh—” he lifted a finger “—didn’t I also say I volunteer in an old-people’s-home or something?” He tapped that same finger against his chin. “I don’t remember.”

Mor rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “You and your lies,” he said. “Just once, I wish you’d tell us the truth straight up.”

Luc smiled devilishly. “One day, Trisencor, you will see just how many times you thought I was lying when I wasn’t.”

“Will you still be living in our apartment with me and Dog-Shayne?” Dranian murmured.

Shayne’s head snapped toward him. “Who is Dog-Shayne?” he asked. “And what do you mean ‘living in our apartment’?”

“Of course,” Luc replied to Dranian. “I just spent the last weeks pretending to be in two places at once, and I’ve discovered I’m good at it. My fellow Shadow Fairies never even realized I was gone. It won’t be that difficult to check in every now and then and do some King-ish things. Throw a few royal fits. Maybe snap a few necks while I’m at it.”

Shayne watched Lily wince and shake her head.

“Let’s go home, then,” Cress decided. “Immediately. I’ll lose my faeborn-cursed mind if I stay here any longer.” He glanced up at the vaulted, web-covered ceiling heights of the Shadow Palace.

At the mention of home, warmth spilled into Shayne’s chest. “Home,” he whispered to himself. It drew Lily to glance over at him. He smiled as it settled in that he was going there, back to the human realm, back to Fae Café, back to the box of space he’d promised to share with Dranian, back to wearing his burgundy apron, and enchanting coffee drinks. Back to peace and simplicity. Back to everything he loved. And especially, back to where he belonged.

A hand slid into his beneath the table. His gaze darted over to Lily, and he realized he’d maybe reached human heaven for a split second when he caught her smiling. “You’re such a child,” she whispered, filled with all the endearing,‘I’m-completely-obsessed-with-you’feelings she would totally deny later.

“And you’re not as ugly as you think, ugly Human,” he told her.

Her face changed like she couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or not. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Ah, you’re right.” Shayne nodded. “I think I agreed to call youMessy-Haired Scarecrowfrom now on, didn’t I?”

She pulled her hand out of his. “Shayne,” she said flatly.

“Scarecrow?” he asked in all innocence.

Lily rolled her eyes, but there was a teensy smirk on the corners of her mouth. Shayne stared at that mouth of hers, with its little quirking movements and its bad habits of lying and being sassy. He’d never wanted to kiss anything so bad. She’d probably shove him off if he tried it in front of everyone though since she wasn’t one for public displays of affection—something he would have to make her change her mind about since he was excellent at public displays of affection.

Yes, he’d kiss that mouthverysoon.

34

Luc Zelsor and Home

There was a particular smell in the old-people’s-home that most of the human realm workers claimed to not like. Luc was probably the only being in existence who found comfort in it. It was filled with old stories, peaceful tones, and untapped wisdom. Humans didn’t realize all the available knowledge hiding away in their elders. If only humankind would take a glance at their history every now and then, they might find solutions to their problems instead of repeating the same mistakes over and over.

Luc opened the front doors and headed inside as he adjusted his backpack, then he nodded to the young receptionist at the desk who cast him a shy wave and pushed her hair behind her ear. A variety of paper trees had been hung up along the walls—likely the patients’ most recent craft.

He made his way around the bend to his locker, shrugged off his coat, and dragged out his scrubs, slipping them on over his jogging clothes. He was still fastening his shiny name tag to his chest when the head caregiver,Mary, came around carrying a clipboard and a rather heavy-looking teetering tray of rolled towels. Luc almost didn’t make it to her in time before she would have dropped everything. He lifted the tray while the middle-aged female caught her balance and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. She flashed him a smile.

“Thanks, Luc. I was on my way to distribute those to the rooms on the second floor, but… well, I got a little dizzy,” she said. “They’re a lot heavier than they used to be.”

“I’ll do it,” Luc said. He cast her a smile in return that might have actually been authentic and cruelty-free. “How is patient 112? Any new trauma symptoms?” he asked as he moved the tray to one hand and used the other to replace his backpack. They headed back by reception toward the stairs, and Mary laughed.

“They’re people, Luc, not patients. This isn’t a hospital. And you should learn their names!” she reminded him. “I think it’s so funny you always call them by their room numbers. How do you remember everyone’s numbers like that anyway?”

“Not everyone’s,” he admitted. “Just the ones I like, I suppose.”

Ten minutes later, Luc set the empty tray on the cart at the end of the second floor hall and ventured down to room 112 with the last towel. He knocked lightly, and when there was no answer, he cracked the door open.

“Ms. Hunter?” he called gently. “I’ve brought towels.”

“Come in,” a voice called back, and so, Luc slipped into the room.

A female sat in a wheeled-chair by the window, making a study of everyone outside. Wreaths of woven flower stems and long grass hung in various places around the room.

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