“He’s so jealous,” Gem whispered loudly in Oliver’s ear.
“So jealous,” Oliver agreed, mouth twitching with the need to smile.
A growl rumbled in Rusty’s chest, making both Gem and Oliver laugh, but their conversation was derailed as another wave of customers flowed into the cafe. Even though Rusty was scowling, the amused sway to his tail gave him away, and it filled Gem’s belly with crackling warmth as he returned to his spot behind the espresso machine.
The Pylon complained and postured, but Gem knew he secretly enjoyed their repartee. And since it was practically Gem’s favorite pastime, it made him endlessly happy. Today was proving to be a fantastic day indeed.
Chapter five
Rusty Really is a Care Bear
Rusty
By the time Rustywas getting ready to clock out, his foot was starting to throb. He considered backing out of the plan to go clubbing tonight, since that would mean even more standing and walking, but in the end, decided against it. It would be more hassle than it was worth.
Since he hadn’t wanted awkward questions or attention, he’d removed the gauze Gem had wrapped around his foot after he’d walked home early this morning, his clothes still damp from the night before. He’d exchanged the soiled bandages for one larger, flat one that covered the more egregious cuts, and it had the benefit of not being easily seen unless someone was looking for it.
Fighting the urge to limp, Rusty had made it through the day without anyone the wiser of his injury—except Gem, of course, who pulled him aside while Oliver was on break and asked how his foot was feeling. He didn’t immediately accept Rusty’s dismissive assurances, but eventually, herelented after forcing Rusty to lift his foot so he could make sure he wasn’t still bleeding.
As Rusty hooked his arms through his rucksack, Gem trilled from behind the register, “Hey, Rus, do you wanna coordinate our shirts again for tonight?”
Oliver snickered as Rusty turned and sent him the Pyclese gesture for “get fucked”—his thumb under his chin, jerking forward like he was flinging spunk out of his fur.
It made Gem shriek with laughter, and Rusty hated how much he didn’t hate the sound. Rolling his eyes, he pushed through the kitchen doors and took the sandwich Toni had made for him.
“Thanks, Toni, how very thoughtful of you to make me a sandwich,” Toni said in a terrible impersonation of Rusty’s accent, before his voice returned to normal as he continued the one-sided conversation. “Why, you’re so welcome. I am a pretty thoughtful guy.
“Get fucked, Toni. I’m too much of an asshole to say thank you,” the Elas said, once again impersonating Rusty before responding as himself, “Oh, you don’t gotta tell me. This I already know.”
“You’re kind of douchey,” Oliver said as he trailed Rusty to the back exit. “You know that, right?”
“Thank you, Ollie,” Toni said.
“It’s not a compliment,” Oliver said.
“And yet, I’m taking it as one anyway. Ain’t that amazing?” Toni said with far too much satisfaction on his smug face.
Ignoring them both, Rusty trudged into the late afternoon light, the teal sand of Purgatory burrowing underneath his bandage and making his cuts burn. Toni had never liked Rusty, and the feelings had always been mutual. The Elas was arrogant and obnoxious and judgmental. He’d taken one lookat Rusty and decided then and there that he wasn’t worth the shit on his boots.
And, as Oliver had succinctly pointed out, he could be a huge douchebag. Rusty didn’t understand why Gem and Toni were even friends, let alone best friends since secondary. Granted, he didn’t know why Gem wanted to behisfriend, either. Maybe Gem was just a bad judge of character when it came to friendships.
“So…” Oliver said as he fell into step beside Rusty.
“So?” Rusty prompted as he took a bite of his sandwich.
“You and Toni?”
“Is that a question?” Rusty asked.
Oliver ducked his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”
Normally, Rusty would have agreed, but he liked the human. Oliver was sweet, and he didn’t care that Rusty was a Pyclon or that he’d worked Flesh Street. Granted, as a human, he didn’t truly understand the weight of either of those things, but even if he did, Rusty didn’t think Oliver would care. He was just a good guy, even if he was so K.O. it was embarrassing.
“Toni’s a douchebag,” Rusty said, “and I’m an asshole. That about sums it up.”
With a snort, Oliver shoulder-checked him. “I don’t think that’s true of either of you, not really.”
As they approached the doors to Purgatory Station, Rusty took another bite and shrugged. “We just got off on the wrong foot and never really righted it, I guess.”
