Page 138 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

And somewhere above us, the bunny twirled—graceful, smug, as if it had orchestrated this moment all along. The wind carried the faintest melody, like Cupid’s whistle, playful and soft. Maybe it was all in my head. Or maybe magic had better timing than we ever did.

Chapter 43: The Chaos Cut

I wasn’t sure why I agreed to follow Ethan into his mansion. Maybe it was the bunny. Maybe it was Joy's reckless confidence or Shun’s silent resignation. Or maybe it was Ethan himself—grinning like he owned the world and occasionally acted like he’d burn it down just to get a laugh out of me.

We stepped inside, and the place hit me like a memory wrapped in marble and overpriced cologne. I’d been here before, during a school party. #my first vodka experience.

Now, I was back. Voluntarily. Questionable decision-making was becoming my brand.

Joy whistled low, her voice echoing off the chandeliered ceilings. “Okay... this place is one thunderclap away from a horror movie.”

Shun tugged her hoodie tighter. “Gorgeous. In a haunted kind of way.”

Ethan glanced back at them, smirking. “Don’t be fooled. The marble's polished, but the secrets aren’t.”

He was already halfway across the foyer, leading us like this was a tour and we were the ghosts. I trailed behind, mentally checking off the ways this could go sideways.

Then a voice floated down from the staircase—light, precise, effortlessly in control.

“I see you brought guests, Ethan.”

I froze. Even Joy straightened up. Shun blinked like she wasn’t sure whether to bow or flee.

Ethan’s mother descended the stairs in a flowy robe that made her look like she walked out of a painting… or a final boss fight. Her eyes were sharp, but her smile didn’t bite—yet. She was beautiful in that way that said she was used to being listened to, obeyed, and possibly worshipped.

“Good morning,” she said. “Would you all like to stay for breakfast?”

Joy answered before I could. “We’d love to. Honestly, this house looks like it makes better pancakes than we deserve.”

Ethan grinned. “Before that… Mom, there’s someone I want you to meet properly.”

He turned, walked toward me, and grabbed my hand like that was a normal thing to do.

I blinked at him. “What are you—”

“This,” he announced, spinning me toward his mother like I was an exhibit at a science fair, “is Clark. My emotional support nerd. The guy who once screamed ‘bunny!’ like we were under attack. He's smart, morally complex, and deeply allergic to complements. Basically, he’s the Clark to my chaos.”

My brain short-circuited somewhere around “morally complex.”

Ethan’s mom arched a brow, smile curving into something dangerous. “Charming,” she said, eyes on me now. “You’re exactly the type I was hoping he’d bring home.”

Joy made a sound that was half gasp, half gleeful wheeze.

“I’m not— we’re not officially—” I started.

“You’re adorable,” she said smoothly. “Come, sit. We have avocado toast and milk.”

Ethan leaned in and whispered, “Before we eat, wanna see something in my room?”

I stared at him. “If it’s a portal to hell, I’m leaving.”

He smirked. “It’s better.”

I wasn’t sure what “better” meant in demon terms, but I followed him anyway.

Because if there was one thing worse than being dragged into a demon’s mansion, it was not knowing what Ethan actually wanted to show me.

And yeah, maybe I was curious.

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