Page 8 of The Grim Reaper's Girlfriend

She bites her bottom lip, drawing my gaze to it. “Well… you see… I had originally planned to attend the evening show, so I didn’t think to check the other times.” She points up at a sign plastered on a clear window. “It says the show doesn’t start for another hour.”

I try ever so hard to hide my delight. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, as the humans say.

“Then we will do something else then.” A thought crosses my mind. Iamscheduled to reap Mr. Bobton Miller soon. As soon as I am about to make the suggestion, my mouth clamps shut as if it has a mind of its own and is warning me against saying something foolish. Fine. I do not believe Morgan will allow reaping her townsfolk as our first date anyway.

I cross my arms and wait for her to make another suggestion. If it is not another one of these films humans are obsessed over, then I will be glad because sitting in a dark, cramped room filled with humans is not how I prefer to spend my days.

“You know what? You’re right,” she says.

“I am?” I cock my head in confusion. I was unaware that humans were capable of hearing thoughts. It isn’t supposed to be possible, at least not in this realm. Then again, her body is way past its expiration. This serves as a reminder as to why humans must be reaped on time, but I just hope that it is the only reminder I am given, seeing as though I still have many days to deal with this pesky human.

She flashes a warm smile that could easily melt snow, but there’s a devious glint in her eyes, and now I can’t help but wonder if she is suggesting that we reap Mr. Bobton Miller together as some sort of way to scheme more time in the mortal world, or if she is confirming that reaping townsfolk is off the table.

My head begins to throb. I am not used to this human body or the aches that come with it, as I spend so little time in this flesh.

“I may not agree with some of the things you have to say, Grimm, but I do agree with you about doing something else in the meantime. At least until the movie starts.” And then she lowers her voice to that of a whisper and leans toward me as if she’s about to tell me a secret. “How about we run to the store and get some candy to sneak into the theater?”

My eyes widen. Not more of that sugary crap that rots teeth and sticks to everything. I dare not tell her how much I loathe the stuff for fear that she will somehow use it against me. There are still remnants of her sugary breakfast on my clothing. I do not need more.

“So what do you think?” she asks.

“About what?” Is it so much to ask the rulers of the afterworld to dull her memory just this once?

“About getting some candy. I know a really great shop that has delicious treats.” She’s still whispering. Obviously sneaking treats inside is not allowed.

I sigh. Of course, she does. I bet this human has mapped out every treat shop in existence.

“Come on, it’s this way.” She reaches for my arm and pulls me in the opposite direction of the way we came.

A short while later, we are standing in the middle of the aisle of some shop she claimed was imperative that we visit.

“Can you hold these for a minute?”

Begrudgingly, I hold out my hands to take two bags of candy from her. How one human could eat all this garbage is beyond me, but apparently such treats are necessary for films. I do not argue. Especially after she dragged me to not one, but two shops. I fear if I make a comment she will drag me to yet another.

“Isn’t the movie about to start?” I ask, setting the bags on the floor because I do not wish to hold them any longer.

“We still have fifteen minutes.”

I sigh.

All of a sudden, her face is mere inches from mine. She’s so close I can smell her sweet scent. Sweet. Tart. Delicious and—

I narrow my gaze. Is that her breath that I am smelling? All those sweets that she consumed not that long ago?

Before I can do anything, she reaches up and pulls my hood off. Tiny fingers thread through my hair, matting it down. And then something is placed upon my head.

I try to remove it, but she stops me. “What is this?”

“You need a hat.”

“I do not.”

“It’s cold outside.”

I stare her down. “Reapers do not get cold.”

She bites her lower lip again and for all that is holy, I cannot look away. “But… but now we match,” she says quietly.

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