Page 3 of Summoning Mr. Wrong
The shower finally warmed up, and I stepped in, hoping the water would wash away some of my stress along with yesterday’s grime. I was just working shampoo into my hair when I heard the bathroom door open.
“Occupied!” I yelped, frantically trying to cover myself with my hands despite the shower curtain between us.
“Just need to brush my teeth,” Deus’s voice came from right by the sink. “Cereal leaves a weird aftertaste.”
“You don’t have teeth brush—” I started, then heard the unmistakable sound of my toothbrush being used. “That’s my toothbrush!”
“We’re basically roommates now. What’s a little shared bacteria between friends?”
I groaned and tried to focus on finishing my shower as quickly as possible. The curtain provided minimal privacy, and the knowledge that an actual demon was three feet away while I was naked was doing strange things to my anxiety levels. And other parts of my anatomy.
“So what’s your job?” Deus asked conversationally, as if we were just normal roommates chatting during morning routines.
“Barista,” I answered reluctantly. “At Beans & Books on Maple.”
“Hmm. Making coffee for hipsters. Exciting.”
“It pays the bills. Barely.” I rinsed my hair, careful to keep my back to the curtain. “What do demons do when they’re not being summoned by idiots with TikTok rituals?”
There was a pause. “Depends on the demon. I mostly watch Netflix and judge people’s poor life choices.”
That startled a laugh out of me. “Seriously?”
“The interdimensional planes get boring. You humans are way more entertaining.”
I shut off the water and realized I had a problem. My towel was hanging on the back of the door, unreachable without exposing myself.
“Um,” I said, dripping behind the curtain, “could you hand me my towel?”
“Sure.”
The curtain suddenly pulled back, and I yelped, spinning to face the wall and covering my ass with my hands. Deus stood there, grinning, holding out my towel but making no move to give it to me.
“Dude!” I squeaked.
His eyes made an appreciative journey down my back to where my hands were failing to cover much. “Not bad, Julian. You’re hiding a pretty decent body under those tragic clothes.”
My face burned hotter than the sun. “Towel. Now. Please.”
He chuckled but finally handed it over. I wrapped it around my waist with record speed, my heart pounding like I’d run a marathon.
“Privacy isn’t really a thing for demons,” he said, still standing way too close. “Bodies are just bodies.”
“Well, privacy is very much a thing for me,” I said firmly, sidling past him to escape the bathroom. “So boundaries, please.”
He just smiled, those amber eyes twinkling with mischief. “Whatever you say.”
Chapter 3
Work was a disaster. I broke a mug, messed up three orders, and nearly burned myself twice because I couldn’t stop thinking about my new roommate situation. What was Deus doing in my apartment? Rearranging furniture? Summoning more demons? Going through my browser history?
Oh god, my browser history.
By the time my shift ended, I was a nervous wreck. I practically ran the four blocks home, taking the stairs two at a time despite my apartment being on the fifth floor (the elevator hadn’t worked since the Obama administration).
I burst through the door, out of breath, and stopped short.
My apartment was… clean. Not just tidy, but actually clean. The floor had been vacuumed, the dishes washed, the sad collection of plants watered. It smelled like lemon furniture polish and something delicious cooking.
