Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
When Kyranis spots me gawking at him, he raises his milkshake as if he’s toasting our future marriage. “This is very tasty!” Fortunately, there are no other customers who could be bothered by this weird-ass display. “The food is salty, the drink sweet. I can see the appeal. We could recreate it for our wedding feast.”
“Glad you like it!” I give him my customer service smile, but something about this whole situation gives me goosebumps and I can’t ignore my gut feeling any longer. This guy knows my name, he mentioned the shadows, and is now casually waiting, as if I agreed to go out with him after my shift.
Kurt pulls me aside, behind the fridge with soda bottles. “Are you okay? You seem off. If you’re unsure about this guy, I could lock the restaurant and walk you to the car. Or we could wait for Marty. Though I’m not getting any bad vibes from Mr. Prince Charming over there. Maybe he’s just awkward.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I’m just not in the mood for entertaining him. I’ll be fine. I’ll leave through the back door.” While I appreciate Kurt’s concern, I’ll be damned if I end up looking like a damsel in distress because of an overdressed cosplayer.
My need for independence borders on pathological, but that’s what you get with an overbearing mother and years at a strict boarding school.
“Are you sure? He’s a big guy, and you’re… you know. You.”
I frown at Kurt. “Thanks for that.” I may be on the skinny side, but I know how to run. I’ve learned the hard way how important that can be.
Kurt drags his hands down his face. “You know what I mean. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help if you’re uncomfortable.”
He’s such a sweetheart. Only that there’s everything wrong with that. I have to deal with this kind of shit myself, because there is no actual Prince Charming coming to save me. My life has been a string of failures, and it seems that Lord Creeper slurping a milkshake and threatening me with a wedding is the best date I can get.
“Nah, my car isn’t far.” I plaster on a fake smile and lower my voice. “But I’ll go now, if you don’t mind, since he’s expecting to wait a little longer.”
Kurt’s brows pull into a perfectly angelic expression of concern. “Sure,” he whispers back. “I’ll let Marty know what happened if he comes back earlier than expected.”
I shake my head. “No need to bother him with this. He’d tell my mother, and then I’d have to listen to a litany of reasons why I should clean up my act and date a ‘nice girl’.”
I steal one more glance at the Prince of Darkness in the corner booth and get my stuff from the locker. Kyranis isn’t yet done with his meal, so I’m guessing this is a good time to dip out.
I wish I was more chill about this. Maybe I should have taken those kickboxing classes when the local gym offered a free trial. Then again, how much would I have learned in a month? Probably only how easy it is to kick my ass.
After a moment of hesitation, I grab a small knife from the kitchen, hoping the cook won’t notice it’s gone, and head for the back door. I need to be able to fend for myself.
Or maybe I’m freaking out over nothing. Could it not be a coincidence that a hot goth guy is trying to woo me by mentioning a romantic bond of shadows? Isn’t that kind of thing a popular fixture in the dark fantasy genre?
You’re on your own. No one cares. Your mother hates you, that’s why she left you here. You’re a burden to everyone.
I have to take a deep breath to chase away the shitty words of a man who called himself a counselor but was just a glorified bully.
I step out into the cool night air and scan my surroundings to work out the shortest route to my car. I parked it at the very far end of the lot, because I read online that it’s a healthy habit. Well, I won’t be too healthy if I get jumped, stabbed, robbed, or abducted so that point is moot.
The moon is hidden behind clouds tonight, so the only light is a yellow lamp above the back door and a streetlight that flickers ominously, as if someone wants to amplify my terror by pulling out all the horror tricks.
It’s working. My heart speeds up for no reason, my palms are getting damp, but I face my fear and start walking.
When I move away from the lamp above the door, my shadow stretches, spilling over the asphalt. I make a point of staring at it, because I know I’m being unreasonable. It’s just a shadow, and its size and color depends on the light source behind me, not on nightmarish deals with monsters.