Page 8 of Hooked on a Demon
“Are you gonna need a ride home?” he asks.
She shakes her head, trying to clear it of the unseemly thoughts coursing through it. “Oh. No. I should be okay. I can catch a ride with one of the other instructors.”
Eliana is pretty sure she sees Declan deflate a little. Does he want to pick her up? “Oh,” he replies, sounding a little sadder than he did a moment ago.
Unsure of what to do now, she adjusts her bag on her shoulder and motions behind her with her thumb. “I, uh, gotta go. I’m already super late.” She takes a few small steps back, awkwardly raising her hand, and waves. “Thanks again. And let me know what the car needs and the expected costs.”
He slides his helmet back on, leaning forward as he prepares to start the bike again. “Will do.”
“Bye, Declan.”
“Bye, Eliana.” And holy shit, if her name doesn’t sound like a prayer to the heavens. Sent directly from his lips to whatever gods or goddesses he worships.
* * *
“Thanks for the ride, Bels. I really appreciate it,” Eliana says, climbing out of Bellamy’s car. Her phone vibrates in her hand as she leans down to talk through the open window.
“Unknown Number” dances on the screen when she glances at it before silencing the call.
“Not to worry, love. I’m happy I could help. I can pick you up in the morning if you’d like.”
“That would be lovely, thank you. Declan said it should be ready to go tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll cab over there and pick it up before heading home.”
“Sounds good, Ellie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye.” Eliana waves as she watches Bellamy pull away from the apartment building’s entrance. Bellamy honks the horn, sticking her hand out the window, and waves before shrinking into the distance.
As much as she hates asking for favors, preferring to do things on her own, she’s thankful that she has coworkers like Bellamy who have also become friends. When Bellamy heard what happened with Eliana’s car, she was the first to offer her assistance and refused to take no for an answer, even if it meant Bellamy had to drive out of her way to bring Eliana home.
Eliana rides the elevator up to the eleventh floor, then makes the short distance down the hallway. Unlocking the front door, she steps into her home and sighs deeply, letting the frustration from the day flow out and releasing the energy that has been wound tight inside her. Although she’s been busy teaching most of the day, her thoughts refuse to stray from the cost of her car repairs and the tempting demon who was going to fix it.
Tossing her bag on the floor and kicking her shoes off, she walks down the hall to her kitchen, where she spends a few minutes reheating a couple of slices of pizza in the air fryer and pours herself a glass of soda. She makes her way to the sofa, placing her food and drink on the coffee table. On the side table rests the remote and her current crochet project—a baby blanket for her pregnant coworker, Aria. She picks up the hook and yarn, settling it onto her lap, and turns on the TV, finding this week’s episode ofHaunted Shores, her favorite ghost-hunter show that looks at abandoned seaside buildings. She leans forward, taking a sip of her drink and a bite of the pizza, before sitting back and picking up the hook and yarn. She slides the hook between the yarn, wraps the working strand around it, and pulls through, wrapping the yarn again and pulling through both loops. Slide. Wrap. Pull through. Before long, the rhythm of hooking, scooping, and pulling the yarn back through takes over as she counts stitches, making sure to increase and decrease as needed.
As she builds on her chevron blanket, stitch by stitch and row by row, Eliana’s thoughts wander back to the sandy-haired demon she had her arms wrapped around that morning. She may often be lost in her thoughts, but she’s not oblivious. That demon isfine. She’d obviously seen him before. It would be hard not to, with him being her brother’s best friend and all. Letting her mind wander back, it has to have been at least a couple of years since the last time they crossed paths, and those years have treated him well. Like really well. His shoulders feel broader, and from what she could tell with her arms around his chest, he’s filled out nicely.
She didn’t expect to see him when she walked into that shop, and she truthfully didn’t know Hellbent Motors was his. Thinking about it now, the name and owner combo makes sense (him being the son of a former demon lord in the underworld, and all) and she recognizes why it would have sounded familiar, likely having heard Everest mention it a time or two. Though, she does tend to tune him out when he gets to talking about cars.
But the way Declan said her name when he saw her nearly made her knees buckle.
Eliana always hated it when her friends had crushes on Everest when she was younger. It frustrated her that friends would arrange to hang out with her in hopes of actually seeing her annoying big brother. Thinking of Declan now, though, has her finally understanding the draw. She has no reason to go and hang out with her brother, but she can’t deny the urge to call him up and see what he’s doing. Spending more time with him would mean she has a greater chance of running into Declan, of course.
Looking at the clock, she sees it’s already been an hour, a new episode ofHaunted Shoreshas started, and her pizza is long gone. She doesn’t even remember finishing it off. Aside from dance, crochet is one of the only things that brings her so much peace while allowing her to process her thoughts. She gets lost in the rhythm and counting. No one told her there was so much counting in crochet when she started, but the counting and repetitiveness in the patterns help her focus. Some days, when she’s really into whatever it is she’s making, be it a sweater, a blanket, or a scarf, the pattern is all she can think about, and she’ll find herself repeating it to herself as she dances, turning it into a new count for her to follow.
As the ghost hunters hold up an infrared camera, looking for heat signatures, she looks at the clock again. It’s only seven thirty. Certainly, not too late to call Everest. He’s likely chilling at home. Maybe even lonely. She wouldn’t want her brother to feel lonely, she rationalizes to herself.
She picks up her phone, unlocks it, and finds her brother’s name in her contacts. Her thumb hovers over his name. Before she can second-guess herself, she taps on the screen and calls him.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” Everest answers.
“Hello to you too, and nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something is wrong?”
“Because you only ever call me when something’s wrong.”
Eliana scoffs. “I do not.”
“You do, too. Also, what kind of sociopath calls someone up without a text first?”
Huffing out an exasperated breath, Eliana sidesteps the bait, refusing to feed into his attempt to annoy her. “Hi Everest, how are you doing?”
