Page 93 of Grim
“Oh, we absolutely are. Now, I’ve got to get dressed and then order us a ride.”
“I’ll open a portal,” he states.
I raise a brow. “You said that portals are for official reaper business.”
“Desperate times, Mayday.”
“No,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“No?” He raises a brow. “Rue, let’s be realistic here. A portal is faster.”
“It’s also nauseating, disorienting, and altogether too draining for a simple trip to get shoes. Sorry to burst your bubble, Grim, but we’re doing this the human way.”
“You’re overexaggerating the portal and romanticizing getting into a stranger’s vehicle, smelling their odor, and trusting them not to kidnap you.”
“I’ll be dead in a couple of days anyway, so what does it matter?” I shrug, and he scowls, not enjoying my remark. “Besides, the only romanticizing I’m doing is the part where you, a centuries-old reaper, are about to set foot in a mall with food courts, crowds of teenagers, and fluorescent lighting.”
He looks at me, genuine pain and discomfort in his voice as he says, “Barbaric.”
“You’ll get over it.”
Kane groans. “Rue …”
“Don’tRueme,” I say, forcing back a laugh while reaching for my phone. “We’re doing this.” I tap through the app on my phone before smiling up at him and heading to my room to get dressed. “Steve will be here in three minutes. Gotta love these modern conveniences.”
“Steve? Is that the name of the car or a person?”
“The driver, silly. Now let me get ready. He’s almost here!”
Kane follows me to my room, leaning on the doorframe while crossing his arms. “And whatcarwill I be forced into?”
“Can you not stand there while I’m trying to get dressed?” I huff, slipping into my skirt.
“I’ve seen you naked already,” he points out annoyingly.
“And now is not the time for a repeat viewing,” I state while turning my back to him, removing my baggy shirt, and chucking it at his face. “And it’s a Prius.” I turn back around after slipping my tank top on.
“A what?”
“A Prius,” I repeat. “It’s good for the environment.”
“Wear pants,” Kane states sharply.
“Excuse me?” I laugh lightly. “Now you have something negative to say about my skirt?”
“No, I just … never mind, I’ll be in the living room.”
I watch him stalk away, and I cock my head to one side.
“What was that about?” I wonder aloud.
“Prolly not wanting others to look at you!”
“Seek!” I gasp, clutching my heart as the small ghost pokes his head through my wall. “We’ve gone over this. I have a heart condition!”
“Sorry.” He smiles cheekily as I walk to my dresser and pull out leggings. For no other reason than the fact that malls in the summer in New Orleans are cold. And that’s theonlyreason.
The lie I tell myself gets interrupted by a series of cheerful beeps from outside. I look out the window and see a silver Prius parked at the end of my gravel driveway under the weeping oak.
