GRIMACE THE BITCH:hi! i had teddy abracadabra your bag to byrd’s since i didn’t want to be traumatized by whatever carpet munching was happening. you’re welcome in advance. love u!
I rolled my eyes at the text. I replied:
ME:I hate your lesbophobic ass. Thanks, runt.
After I finished my business, I grabbed my daggers and put them back on my ankles, the familiar weight ofbothof them there grounding me more than I had felt in days. I found my bag in front of the door to Byrd’s bedroom. I pulled out some sweats, a sports bra, an old Texas shirt I had gotten at some gas station years ago, and a pair of slides I used as house shoes. I also retrieved my tin case with hot rod flames, where I kept my blunts and lighter. I had rolled a ton in advance, and I was grateful to my past self beyond measure. Once dressed, I left the room and headed straight to the rooftop terrace.
The mild chill of a mediocre Georgia winter greeted me as I went to sit on the ledge. The sky was bright and clear without a single cloud, the sun shining like a smile. I lit the blunt and took a long inhale before blowing the smoke out of my mouth. Whereas relaxation would normally settle into my muscles with the first hit, it never came this time. Probably because this was the most relaxed I had been in weeks. I wasn’t tense anymore. I felt more loose and comfortable in my own skin, not like before, where it felt like I was fighting with myself and trying to maintain control over who I was. All of the stress and rage were gone for the most part, outside of my lingering thirst forrevenge against Lilah and Cooper. I felt complete and at home both within myself and outside of it.
Below, the world was already awake and alive. I had never really been to Blackbell before Byrd. I knew it existed to cater to the needs of the supernatural creatures who lived within it. The metropolis had accommodations galore, from special seating for centaurs to transportation for mer-folk to even special traffic lanes and housing in the sky for flying beings. It was an impressive feat of civil engineering and care. But the real magic was in the timing of the day.
The city was stirring during that precious time just after Christmas but before New Year’s, where the magic of the holidays was still prevalent and persistent, like it could last forever. Kids screamed in glee, enjoying their gifts and time off from school with their friends. As I found out from Teddy, most of the city shut down to give people time with their families, except for essential workers like emergency services and those who wanted to be open. So, there were plenty of adults on the streets as well, savoring the freedom. The air was crisp and fresh with joy and opportunity. A giddiness bubbled up within me that I couldn’t just blame on the weed I was smoking.
It was crazy how Byrd had shifted my whole existence, and how grateful I was for it.
I finished smoking, ashing in my tin case and tossing the remaining roach inside for me to crack later if I ran low on my stash. I tossed the case on the table nearby and allowed myself to air out a bit before I went to start some coffee.
But, I found that I was beaten to it.
The smell of a delicious roast brewing hit me before I saw who was making it. Everett stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. A large French press stood in front of him with coffee already steeping inside. He was dressed for the day already in a sweater with a button-down underneath and slacks.His golden brown eyes were so hyper-focused on something on his phone that he missed my entrance. I sucked in a breath and rolled my shoulders.
Here we go, I guess.
“Good morning,” I greeted.
He looked up at me and pocketed his phone. His expression was casual, yet didn’t give much else away beyond that. “Good morning.”
“Where’s Teddy?”
“In the shower. He prefers my shower here. Something about how luxurious it is compared to the water hose in a wall that he can afford on his teaching salary?” Everett shook his head while I chuckled. Then, “Coffee?”
I nodded, coming to lean against the countertop, noticeably far from the side of it that remained damaged with a hole clean through and a massive crack going from the side facing the living room to the one facing the kitchen. I was surprised it wasn’t separated and was still standing in one piece. Well, sort of.
“How do you like it?” Everett asked, turning to get a mug from the cabinet behind him.
“Some cream and sugar, please.”
He glanced at me while he poured the hot brown elixir of the gods. One of his eyebrows was raised. “Are we talking about Byrd’s amount of both, or?—?”
I scrunched my nose. “Fuck, no. Absolutely not. Definitely more like a normal person with a sweet tooth. I love my girl, but she likes creamer and a sugar rush with a side of espresso.”
Everett chuckled. “I’ve been saying the same thing foryears.”
He prepared my coffee and handed me the mug once he was done. Then, he made his own cup, which he drank straight with nothing added.
“This isreallygood,” I complimented after a sip. “Vietnamese coffee beans?”
Everett’s eyes light up with surprise. “Actually, yes. How did you?—?”
“My father is a bit of a coffee purist. I have been drinking coffee since I was a kid, and he has been bitching about who makes the best beans far longer than that. Everything I know about the perfect cup of brew I learned against my will from him. Vietnam was always his favorite.”
“Smart man.”
“Only when it comes to coffee,” I snorted.
We made small talk for a while about how much of a purist he was, too. When he used to have to travel for the DSO, the only way he used to keep his sanity sometimes was by finding a local coffee shop and learning about where they sourced their beans and how they picked the perfect ones for their coffee. It fascinated him.
I guess every dick needs a hobby, even if it’s the only bean they were good at finding for real.
