Page 59 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
I work down my to-do list, scratching things off like a boss until my stomach groans loudly. Apollo glances up from the book he’d switched over to and cocks his head at me.
“Have you not eaten all day?” he asks.
I think back and…nope. Not a thing all day except coffee. I shrug with an innocent smile.
“Oops.”
He shoots to his feet and marches over to the fridge. “Where is the food? You need to eat.”
I meet him at the fridge and pull out the quesadilla ingredients. “Want to help me make it?”
“I’ve never made food before,” he says with a frown. “I doubt I’ll be much help, but I’d love to watch.”
“All right, pay close attention. I’m going to quiz you on quesadillas later,” I say, grabbing one of my pans out of the box that still needs to be unpacked. It’s a running theme.
I turn to set the pan on the stove and realize my error very quickly. It’s a wood-burning stove. How could I have forgotten?
I groan. “So many appliances need to be replaced.”
“Not to worry, lovely. Icanget a fire started,” Apollo says. He snaps his fingers and freshly chopped firewood appears in the firebox. He pulls on the lever at the bottom, which I have no idea what it does, and then sparks a fire on the wood with a twist of his wrist and a flourish of his blue magic.
“It’ll be hot enough to cook on in about five minutes,” he says with a broad grin, giddy that he’s helped me.
I lay out the tortillas and butter them with the cheap margarine shit—my mom would kill me if I told her it browns better. I sprinkle the shredded cheese on two tortillas, and by the time I’ve finished, the fire is ready to cook with.
The pan is a little big for the area, but it works fine, and in ten minutes, we both have warm, crispy quesadillas and seven-layer dip. I cut them into triangles and we scoop the bean dip with a fork.
“This is a…kay-sa-dee-ya?” Apollo asks.
I nod, my cheeks full of the warm, cheesy, fake buttery goodness. “Yep. It’s not really traditional food, but I grew up with it. We were kinda broke, and tortillas were cheap. Cheese, less so, but still cheaper than meat.”
Apollo leans forward. “Tell me more.”
I take another piping-hot bite and cover my mouth. “About what?” I ask, hooing and hawing.
“About you. I want to know more about the life you led before you came here.”
“Take a bite first,” I say, pointing to his untouched quesadilla.
His fangs poke into the crispy shell with a crunch and he pulls away. Strings of cheese hang on to the rest, and he pulls and pulls, the strings getting longer and longer until they finally snap and come flying back to his face, plastering his chin and neck.
He nods appreciatively as he licks up the strings of cheese. “It’s good. Better than the burger, I think.”
I lean over and pick a rogue cheese string off his chin.
That’s a couple’s thing!
I freeze, staring down at my plate in horror as I wipe the cheese on my napkin.
“Sylvia, what just happened?” Apollo asks, putting a hand on my arm.
“Nothing. Sorry,” I say, taking a huge bite of my quesadilla.
He stares at me with concern a moment longer, and then takes another bite of his food.
“You know about the Grand Canyon, and my mom who’s into sage and crystals, and that I have an ex-boyfriend named Jason, so I want to know something about you,” I say, dipping my quesadilla right into the seven layers.
“Ex-boyfriend,” he says, mulling over the word.
