The air smells of burnt coffee and hot grease, a comforting perfume that I can’t help but inhale greedily. I could smell things in my incorporeal form, but not very well. Every scent wasdiluted, sometimes impossible for me to detect. But this… This is something else entirely.
Red booths line the windows, their seats cracked and mended with duct tape. The Formica countertops have been scrubbed clean but bear the soft, permanent dull of a thousand elbows and hot plates.
A single waitress with a name tag that reads Darla moves between the tables with a wearied grace of someone who has done this for years, refilling cups without asking and smiling at familiar faces. From the jukebox in the corner, an unfamiliar song plays, the music warbling slightly as the machine clings to life.
I excessively rub my hands against the booth, my smile growing.
Everett, who is sitting across from me, scowls. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Have you felt the texture of this booth? It’s like…silk.”
“Vinyl,” Zaid corrects, his blush sharpening when I glance in his direction. “What you’re feeling is called vinyl.”
“It’s amazing.” The two of us share a secret smile, but the moment is interrupted by the arrival of the waitress.
Her eyes widen when she takes in my guys—errr,theguys. She licks her lower lip and begins to twirl a bouncing red curl around her finger.
“Hello, darlings. Haven’t seen you guys here before.” She leans forward slightly to offer a better view of her cleavage.
“We’re just passing through.” Krystian smiles tightly, and I have a feeling the waitress is swooning at his British accent.
I know I am.
Trying to ignore the grating sensation I feel all the way in my teeth, I point to the menus in her hands.
“Can we get some menus, please?” I’m not even sure I’ll be capable of eating, but I’m determined to try.
You only live once, after all.
Well, you only come back to a living body one time, after all.
“Oh.” She seems flustered, the guys’ presence addling her brain.
She passes each of the guys a menu before handing one to me last. She once again leans far enough over the table that I see the lacy edge of her bra.
“Here you go.”
The fury inside of me lights like a match.
Ugh. Is this what jealousy feels like?
I hate it.
“Thank you.” I take the menu from her, scowling when our hands accidentally brush.
“I’ll be back to take your orders.” She hesitates a second longer, her gaze sweeping over the table once more, before she sashays away.
Only when she’s gone do I huff and fold my arms over my chest. “Can you believe that woman?”
Theaudacityof flirting with the four guys when they’re obviously here with me.
“You don’t like it when people flirt?” Krystian’s mouth curves, and my gaze tracks the movement.
“It’s rude.” I scowl.
Everett snorts. “You seem like the type that enjoys the attention.”
“Huh?” That one sound comes out on a whoosh of air.
