Page 8 of The War Revision
I let out a fake laugh. “That’s so…blah! And I always protect Falkor.”
“Who?”
Jordie answers Mel’s question, “That’s the name he gave to his dick after that character fromThe NeverEnding Story.”
“The flying dog? Well, your dick is overly energetic…like a chihuahua.”
“A chihua…No!” I bark at Mel. “The flying dragon.”
“You named your dick?” If I didn’t know Ash, I’d think he was trying to provoke me.
“Less judging, mister glowing pants,” I tell him, making him blush. “And FOMO,”—I turn to Mel—“means fear of missing out. If there’s something going on I need to be there, very simple.” Which is not entirely false. I like to be with people. I enjoy the company, it keeps my mind busy and away from gloomy thoughts.
Russel stops next to me and hands a paper cup to Mel. “Here you go, Pixie.”
Mel tilts his head up toward his boyfriend. He doesn’t have to wait long for a kiss.
“Watch out, Russel, he humps things in his sleep,” I whisper-yell.
Russel’s lips turn up on one side. “I know.”
“Now I understand you volunteering at the pet shelter, Fido.” I sneer at Mel.
“I also have fangs and claws,” he warns me. And although I’m triple his size, I’ve seen the video on YouTube of him fighting off a guy who broke inside the shelter a few months back. Mel’s a vicious, scary little thing.
“I really don’t want to know the damage those sharp canines can do. Got it? Canine?” My hilarious joke is met with shaking heads and rolling eyes. Tough crowd.
“What’s with the box?” Russel asks, giving me again that intense stare. Fuck, I should’ve gotten rid of it already, but the amazing food and the incredible IPA distracted me.
“Cole’s welcome gift,” I say drily.
“What is it?” Mel takes a step back, looking at the shoebox like it’s about to explode.
I toss a couple of pigs in a blanket inside my mouth—just to gain some time. I’m going to get absolutely stuffed tonight.
I could lie, but Jordzilla is here and he knows me too well. So I go for the crude truth—my favorite response. “Do you really want to know? And before you answer, if you say yes, you’ll become fair game in our prank war.” I let my eyes move on each of them until they fall on Russel. He’s the one closest to Cole, and more inclined to go warn him about my plan.
“Keep us out of your silly, dangerous, crazy war,” Mel replies for everybody, and I pout at that.
It’s actually just an act, because I prefer it this way. This prank war is Cole’s and mine alone, nobody else’s. Ours. The warm, satisfying feeling engulfing me at the thought is nothing new, but it still confuses me. As usual, I shrug it off in favor of focusing on something else—my revenge prank. I need to reach Cole’s bedroom.
I slip away unnoticed—or not—from the group while they are busy talking about Jordie and Ash’s wedding nightmare. Unfortunately, every time I take a step, someone stops me. First, the hot barista from Sandra’s café—I haven’t fuck him yet and tonight is not the time for that. But I’ll take a rain check on his surfer tan and plump lips. Then it’s Tessa’s turn to explain one more time why she rented the apartment instead of selling it to me. She’s a nice lady, I know it wasn’t her fault. Cole bewitched or cursed her somehow. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Finally, Sally, my old friend who I know…intimately. At the thought, a shiver goes through my body.Why am I thinking that?It happened ages ago, while we were both drunk. I don’t remember much, thank the Lord. She’s like a sister to me for fuck’s sake. I never regret hooking up with someone, not even when I was punched in the face after I fucked a brother and sister. Separately. The same night. In my defense, I didn’t know she lived with her brother and that she had such a mean right-hook.
But Sally, yeah I wish I didn’t go there with her. I still plead the fifth when Pete asks me about that night. And the fucker keeps doing it randomly. Obviously, I pretend like it doesn’t bother me talking about it, because I like to see the horrified expression on her face. But it’s just a big, fat, greasy bluff.
Fuck! I need to get rid of the shoebox. It’s getting too much attention. Sally asks me about it, and I’m out of excuses. She keeps looking at it with her bullshit-radar look. So I distract her by promising I’ll go to the bar in a couple of days to help her restock, since the cute bartender quit. And then excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
I sneak into the short corridor, checking that nobody is following me, and open, just a smidge, what I think is the door to Cole’s bedroom. It’s too dark to see, but I have no time to check properly, so I crouch down and tilt the box down on the side, removing the lid at the same time. As soon as I hear the sound of little paws tapping on the floors, I lift myself up again and quickly close the door.
Here is your welcome gift, Cole!I grin like a loon, pressing a hand on my mouth to smother my giggling.
I turn around and go to the bathroom, which is the door on the other side—just like in my apartment. I throw the shoebox in the trash and wink at my perfect reflection in the mirror. My hand lifts to stroke my left brow, feeling the little scar going through it under my fingertip. Another lovely memory my dear mother inflicted on me. I so fucking wish I didn’t have her green eyes. Or her light blond hair. But I keep it long because it’s a reminder of what I’ve been through and was able to overcome.
I open the door and stop on the threshold when I see Cole leaning on the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for me, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes sweep down the length of my body and Falkor stands to attention. What can I say? He’s used to preening when given attention.
“Don’t remember summoning you, Lucifer,” I declare.
“Such high place you give me,” he retorts with a small smile curling his lips slightly.
