Page 17 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
No, Idohate and yet can’t stop lusting over. Worse, I felt a sense of comfort seeing Ranbir’s smug face again after that run-in with his evil twin, Jaideep. Man, I’m hopeless. Because now Ranbir doesn’t look so bad, especially after trying to apologize to me.
Let’s be honest, even when you thought he was trying to kill you, he looked handsome as hell.
“Ugh!” As I wipe up the disastrous spill, I groan, and my mind wanders back to the jade-eyed naga.
His contempt was familiar, given my introduction to Ranbir when I oh-so-kindly knocked him on his ass. I’m starting to think it runs in their blood, but shake that thought away. I don’t want to stereotype an entire mythical race based on two sour apples.
But when Jaideep touched me, I felt something strange.Magical, but not in the fairytale sort of way. It was sinister, like the wicked stepfather getting their hands on me, and it’s still making my skin crawl as if his touch had been venomous. But Rainbir’s touch, when our fingertips brushed together to exchange his gift, and when he grabbed my wrist so tenderly…
“Damn, man,” Cy says, sneaking up beside me to observe the disaster zone on the counter. “Maybe you need to call off tomorrow. You have that gala thing to cater, and traffic’s gonna be terrible with all the construction going on.”
“Oh yeah, Julio said as much. It’s bad everywhere,” I say, staring at my foamy white hand.
“Yeah,” Cy continues, smiling softly as he twists one of his skull rings, “And you’ve been pretty absent-minded lately. You know if that’s coming from me, it’s bad. I can barely remember where I park my car after our shift.”
I start to argue that I’m alright, but then I catch Justice and Zane sharing a grimace at the mess I’ve made. I turn to our fearless co-leader for some moral support. But all Sam can muster is an attempt at a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and I hang my head in shame.
“Guess we have to have a funeral for the poor thing,” Cy sighs, shaking his head. “I’ll find a box.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, hanging my head in defeat. “Maybe I will call off tomorrow.”
With Cy’s help, we get the frother on the ground near the supply closet to store later if it can’t be fixed, so it’s out of the way. But we leave that part for the night shift, seeing as we still have a lot to do to turn over for the next shift. Cy pushes a box full of coffee beans towards me, and we stack them on top of the frother to be unloaded later. Then, we get back to work.
But I pause as I clean the counters, lost in thought. I need to grow up and face the fact that I’m not okay. I’m acting like a petulant child when I’m the co-manager of this establishment. Café Magnifique took me in when I became a pariah on the streets of Princedelipha. And what have I done to repay the owner and my coworkers? Ruin one of our machines, that’s what.
“I’ll—” I begin to say something stupid like I’ll pay for the repair, as if I can afford to pay for a bag of coffee beans right now.
Cy, to my surprise, is the one to cut me off with a grimace and a bony elbow to my rib cage.
“Pay for what? You can’t even make rent, remember?” he whispers, saying more loudly, “Look, guys, stop staring at the poor dude. He’s gonna make our sunshine, Sheena, sad. That’s enough punishment, dontcha think?”
Everyone nods, rushing to finish their tasks again now that the crisis is cleaned up, and they’re no longer distracted. Meanwhile, I try to figure out a backup plan, seeing as a frother won’t materialize out of thin air for the night shift. One call to Sheena later, since she has a bad habit of not checking her text messages, and a repair crew is scheduled for the morning. Tonight, the skeleton crew just has to pray one frother will hold down the entire shop.
As everything settles down, I keep to myself for the rest of the shift. However, Cy’s words rattle around my aching head. I don’t have enough money to make rent, as if I still have a roof over my head. What a joke. A bad one, and I’m the walking, talking punchline.
They say when it rains, it pours, and I know that for a fact, seeing as I’m dodging rainstorms while sleeping in my car most nights in this dreary city. The sun’s been shining bright lately, making an even bigger mockery of my situation.
Mama did tell me that my pride would kill me one day. If pride comes before the fall, I hope it’s hard enough to knock me unconscious on impact. Anything would be better than the series of unfortunate events I’m running headfirst into. I find myself in the center of it like some main character in a tragedy. And my favorite genre is romance, for fuck’s sake! I can do a little sadness as long as I have my happily ever after in the end, but even trudging to the depths of FanTopia can’t save me now.
I know it’s bad when I can’t find relief by escaping into Y/N fanfiction to live out my dream life.
“It’s partially self-inflicted,” I say out loud, cutting my eyes to Cy’s bent body, who’s sweeping under a table while Justice takes out the trash with Zane not far behind, loaded down with bags.
He’s my best friend. If no one else, I should tell him. We sucked as roommates. I mean, I ended up getting into a fist fight with one of his many exes, only to get blamed by Cy for defending him, among other toxic shit. He’s my best friend, but that doesn’t mean we’re good for each other.
But I digress. It doesn’t sit right with me to lie to him, even by omission. Paying half the rent is worse than my nonexistent rent payment, but it’s better than sleeping in my car. I steel myself to tell Cy the truth tomorrow night after my catering shift at the museum.
If Ranbir, of all people, can commit to groveling, I can confide in my best friend, damn it!
Everyone starts filing out not too long after the incident, but I stay behind to grab a snack and get in the right headspace. I wonder what my scaly stalker is up to right now. He didn’t come in today, and it’s been painfully slow. I won’t be surprised if we don’t get many patrons tonight. And of course, Ranbir disappears into thin air when I need him most for a much-needed distraction.
I’d never willingly volunteer this information about how much I miss the grumpy bastard when he’s away. He’s given me something else to think about for the first time in, well, years. Someone to challenge me. Someone to vent about. It’s been nice having a tangible enemy as a punching bag, if only verbally, to take out all my pent-upeverythingon.
“Man, maybe I’m the toxic one in the equation?” I think out loud, removing my jacket. “And where is everyone?”
“I doubt you have any level of blood toxicity. You’re probably just tired, Mateo. And I am unsure.” a velvet smooth, deep voice responds.
“Whoa! Don’t scare me like that,” I say, terrified and relieved all at once to find Ranbir hovering by the door.
