Page 22 of Halluci-Dating A Demon
Or in this case, hoodie. “Why didn’t you just say Hallmark movie because that’s exactly what you described.” I flip on the lights, moving to open the door. “And no, this is not . . . there was no meet-cute. There’s nothing cute about sleep paralysis and demons.” Except, that’s exactly what Arien is, in all his adorable forms.
“Whatever. I saw how close the two of you were and how he had that ‘please invite me in’ look on his face.”
Sputtering a laugh, I change the sign to open. “He did not, and you’re definitely overreaching like you always do.”
“Hey, I’m all for it. I want to see you happy again, and I swear I saw those lips fighting not to turn up when he was talking to you.”
“What happened to you trying to push me to talk to Brody?” I shoot her a look over my shoulder, carrying the chalkboard with the drinks menu out to the sidewalk while holding the door open with my foot.
“I wasn’t doing it because I think you two should get back together or anything. I was doing it because I know what good friends you two were before you started dating, and I hate watching you constantly pushing people away.”
“I didn’t push him away. He left on his own.” I walk back inside, letting the door swing shut behind me.
She presses her hands to her knees. “You only think that because you didn’t watch you lose yourself the way we did.”
“Look, he’s better off without me. You all are.”
“I disagree, and it’s going to take a lot more than you moping around feeling sorry for yourself for you to get rid of me.”
“I’ve done way worse than that, remember?” I flit my gaze to her, laying a hand on a random chair as I start to feel off balance.
“No. But what I do remember is an unfortunate event that occurred, which was no one’s fault and fully out of your control. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that stupid doctor who kept pumping you full of vitamins and telling you to do a couple of downward dog positions a day.”
“He wasn’t the one behind the wheel. I was. And can you please get your ass off my counter. People’s drinks and food orders go there.”
She mimics my words with her lips, jumping to the floor just as Ian enters. “Morning, everyone. It’s good to see you’re still here, Amy. How long you staying for? Elias is more social when you’re here.”
Amy walks behind the counter to collect a rag and spray bottle from my hands. “Only ’cause my big bro takes way too much joy in scolding me every chance he gets. And only until Saturday.”
“Too long if you ask me,” I deadpan, elbowing her side.
She sticks her tongue out. “See what I mean? You’re going to miss me when I’m gone, just watch. Especially when I make the best drinks your customers have ever had.”
“You are doing no such thing,” I say pointedly.
“This is going to be a fun day,” Ian chimes.
“Our ideas of fun are not the same,” I grumble and Amy laughs, wiping down where she was sitting.
We all fall quiet, eyes darting toward the door as the first customer walks in. I spend the next few hours keeping my sister away from the espresso machine and blenders. Ian shows herhow she can help while not making me sprout more gray hair than I already have, and she bags all the wraps, along with pastries.
I keep watching the door, waiting for a cute purple demon to walk through. Waiting to see if he has this supposed “let me in” face my sister said he did. I think I’ve seen it before, when he asked all his questions—when he tried to get to know me better. Hours pass with him never showing, and as we’re closing up Amy suggests we go to a restaurant.
“Doesn’t matter to me where, as long as there’s food and alcoholic beverages.”
A high-pitched sound escapes my throat, and I steer her toward the bus stop. She yaps on about some guy she’s been chatting with through the Monster Match app and keeps showing me all her matches, knowing damn well I’m trying to pay attention to where we are so we don’t miss our stop.
We’re let off near a shopping mall and Amy walks ahead of me, suggesting we come back tomorrow to check out two stores near the restaurant we’re walking into. We’re led to a table right away . . . and Amy was serious about ordering alcohol. She skims the list on the menu and tells the waitress what she wants before she scurries away.
“So, Mom and Dad are having a party for their thirtieth anniversary and I want you to be there,” she says, as she reaches for the drink the waitress sets down. We order our food and as soon as the young lady is gone again, Amy repeats herself to ensure I heard her.
“Why haven’t they invited me themselves?”
“Mom said she was going to, but I wanted to talk to you before the invitation came.”
“I don’t know Ames.” I stare down at my folded hands in my lap. “I . . . I don’t know if I can step away from the coffee shop that long.”
“At least think about it. You know that I handle being around our annoying family better when you’re there.”
