Page 21 of Michael
I press my hands against the cool pane of glass as a growl lingers in my throat. Why the hell does it bother me so much? She’s not my girl.
“I brought dinner,” a voice says.
I turn around, and sure enough, there’s Rafa. He’s standing in the middle of the living room, wearing a black dress shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders. His brown hair is slicked back, and his brown eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles.
He holds a large paper bag tucked under his arm. A frown creases my brow as I recognize the restaurant’s logo. “I don’t like Chinese food,” I tell him. “Youlike it.”
“I know,and I brought you some,” he snaps, dropping the bag on the table. “Isn’t that nice of me? It’s calledsharing,Michael. You might wanna try it sometime.” He dips a hand inside the takeout bag and pulls out a spring roll.
I enter the living room with him and let out a chuckle. “You’re such a Kardashian,” I say as I plop down on the couch.
With a soft thud, he slumps onto the couch and takes a bite of his crunchy snack. A satisfied moan escapes his lips as he savors the flavor. “I love ‘em!” he exclaims enthusiastically.
“Spring rolls or the Kardashians?” I ask, amused.
“Both,” he teasingly replies.
I shrug. “It figures.”
Rafa takes a bite of his spring roll, watching me closely as he chews. When he finishes, he declares in a low voice, “You know what your problem is, bro?”
I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow. “I’d say none, but I can see you’re dying to tell me otherwise. So, please. Go ahead.”
“Your problem is you’re tooangelic,” he says with confidence. “Us archangels, we’re the fiercest creatures under God’s design, right? Therefore, we’re untamed.”
Confusion sets in and my expression slips into a frown. “Okay. You’ve lost me.”
Rafa leans forward and wags his finger at me. “You need to find someone who’s willing totameyou, Michael. Only then will you be happy.”
“I’m happy now,” I utter, not in the most convincing tone.
“Uh… yeah.” Rafa swallows the last morsel of the spring roll, and then proclaims with a satisfied grunt and a napkin dab on his lips, “So, anyway… I was right.”
I freeze, taken aback. As usual, I’m not following his train of thought.
“Ourpestsituation,” he explains, crumpling the napkin in his fist. “Turns out, it’s not a mouseora rat.” The satisfaction on his face is beyond my understanding.
“It’s not? Then what is it?”
“A dark, voracious monster,” he muses, as he looks into the bag. Pulling out a fortune cookie wrapped in plastic, he grins.
“Oh.That’scomforting.” I slouch on the seat, rolling my eyes back.
“Uri found a way to catch it,” he goes on, careless that I mock him.
“You don’t say?” I’m slightly intrigued. Uri usually isn’t that eager to get his hands dirty. “How exactly does he plan to do that?”
Rafa slumps back in his chair. “We got lucky thanks to a witchlandingat the hospital recently,” he explains. “You know, the one who made the grand entrance into the lobby?”
An icy chill spreads through my veins. I can’t contain my shock, so I whisper, “No, no, no…” as I clench my eyes shut.
“Yeah! I mean, I didn’t actuallysee itmyself.” He bobs his head from side to side. “But Nancy said—”
“Pleasetell me he didn’t, Rafa.”
My brother gives me a stern look and says, “He’s already done it. Now here’s your meal. I gotta go.” He heaves a heavy sigh.
Just when I thought I’d found comfort in not being alone anymore, I eagerly ask, “Where to? I’ll go with you.”
