by D. R. Perry
“Hi, Blaine.” The girl put her book down, leaned her cheek on one hand, and sighed, her eyes on the door.
“Olivia, are you okay?” Some guys might turn mean at her unhappy-to-see-me tone. I’m not some guys, I’m a Harcourt, which means I’m never the first to dish out nastiness.
“I was.” She still wouldn’t look at me, just at the pink-enshrouded table.
“Cat got you down?” Almost everybody knew Olivia Adler had the hots for Tony Gitano, except for the paranoid neighborhood cat-man, of course.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let it get to me.” Finally, she looked me in the eye. “I should ask you what your favorite movie is or something.”
“Yeah, but it’s okay.” I shrugged, even though I’d have asked the diurnally inclined owl shifter out on a date under other circumstances. “You didn’t come here to see me. You can do that on campus any day of the week.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
A buzzer rang, the kind that comes from the sort of alarm clock you want to chuck at a wall to shut off. The hostess with the leastest clicked over on her wannabe-Empire-State-Building heels and shut it off.
She made Olivia get up and take Bianca’s place with Josh, who scratched behind his ear like an actual wolf instead of just a wolf shifter. The Medium sat on the bench, and the hostess directed the redhead to my table.
“Hello, I’m Blaine.” I stuck out my hand, grinning. She wasn’t my type, but I hadn’t seen this lady on campus before and wanted to at least make an effort at friendliness.
“Gemma.” She sat down and crushed my hand in hers.
“Ow! Um, I mean how. Are you doing?” I recognized her finally. From Newport. She'd been down at the precinct a few times for troublemaking as a kid.
“Meh.” She let go of my hand, which was more of a relief than the damn buzzer getting turned off earlier.
“Meh?” I blinked. Blunt honesty wasn't what I'd have expected from a Goblin, but maybe she wasn't one.
“What are we, cats?” She smirked. "Meh, meow. Get it?" Honest, strong, worse than Dad’s bad jokes. Gemma must be a Troll.
"No, but Olivia wishes one of us were.” I winked.
“I don’t understand.” Gemma's expression went blank, which of course, it would. She didn't go to PPC or know its student gossip.
“That’s okay. I don’t either.” I shrugged.
“So, a billionaire dragon at a speed-dating event." She snorted. "Sounds like an unrealistic romance-novel plot. You know, the kind with a healthy dose of smut.”
“Basically fan fiction, then?”
“Something like that.”
“I don’t read it.” I wouldn't admit that I’d written some of the bad Harry Potter variety back in high school.
“Okay. Do you like boating?”
“Um, no. Not really.” I stuck my thumbs up. "Who’s a Fire dragon that gets nervous in too much water? This guy.” I turned the thumbs toward my chest.
“Ha.” You could have called the sound coming out of Gemma’s mouth a laugh, but if so, you’d have to consider snapping your fingers a valid form of applause.
“I bet you like boating, though.”
“It’s sort of my life.” She pulled her blouse off one shoulder, showing off a tribal tattoo. I’d seen its like before, although not in the flesh.
“Are you seriously one of the Goblin King’s Privateers?”
“Yup. A captain, no less.”
“Well, I guess we’re incompatible then.”
She mumbled something that sounded like “Thank God,” but before I could call her on it, the buzzer nearly shocked me into shifting. Good thing I didn’t, considering the entire bar was half the size of me in dragon form. I'd have taken the building down like a one-dragon demolition crew.
The hostess peered at us, then shrugged. I watched her turn to look at the table Josh had been sitting at, which was empty. Bianca had also left the building.
“Um, it looks like we’re the last Extrahumans standing.” I fidgeted with the goofy pink tablecloth.
“Whatever.” Gemma stood.
For a second there, I thought she might flip the table in a Fae version of berserker rage. Maybe her restraint was similar to what stopped me from shifting, but I always sucked at the whole empathy thing, so I didn’t much care either way. I watched the literal pirate turn on her heel and stride out of the place. But I had to stay put, or it’d look like I was following her.
“This job sucks.” The hostess stuffed her obnoxious timer into her oversized handbag. Her lower lip trembled, and her cheeks carried high spots of a pink that put her lip gloss to shame. “I quit!”
She slammed the door on her way out.
I tried turning my gaze heavenward for guidance or maybe some other form of comfort, but the gaudy tinsel hearts attached to the drop-ceiling got in the way. True love had come for my roommate Bobby, who was the most stand-up guy I’d ever met. I was a far cry from decent, so my situation seemed hopeless.
Miracles didn’t exist. It’d take a metric ton of luck for a guy like me to find Miss Right. I had no idea that thought would come back to slap me upside my scaly head mere months later.
Fangs for the Memories
The series continues with Fangs for the Memories coming April 15, 2021.
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