Page 30 of Vallaverse: Twist
I just look at her.
“Look, Laz. You're going to have to forgive me and let all this go. I didn't know that Valla would turn out to be such an ass. I thought he was the epitome of your dreams come to rescue you. Come on. Have lunch with me. It'll be fun, like it used to be before you turned into a pitiful bore.”
Before I'd had enough of this shit. I've grown weary before, but this feels different. It's final. I'm already out the door; my physical presence just needs to catch up.
“I'll go next time.”
She looks at me, then at my coffee then sighs. “We're going. You need to leave this room. You have a choice. You can choose to put on some nice clothes and comb your hair and go have a cheerful lunch with me, or I can make the choice for you. Either way, we're going. Decide how it's going to go.”
Fine.
I roll my eyes like a moody teenager and roll out of bed. She stays in the room while I get dressed. Her talent for small talk is endless, and she drones on about nothing until I slide my feet into my shoes.
“There,” she says. “That wasn't so hard, was it? Let's go.”
I leave my coffee untouched and cold on the nightstand. I don't think Kris would put anything in my coffee, but I don't exactly think she wouldn't, either. The edible forms of most of the R compounds are slow acting, but they take double the time to wear off. If she's going to give memedicine, I'd rather it be an injection like usual. At least then I know what to expect.
She's given me two small doses since the last heat lifted. Just enough to keep me from getting sick. All I have to do is avoid any large doses for a while, and then I can go down to smaller and smaller amounts until I can go without indefinitely. That'swhat all the posters and pamphlets at the clinic say to do. They all advise against stopping all at once, and I know firsthand why. Stopping abruptly leads to a violent, painful sickness that may or may not be worse than death.
It is a nice day out, and the sunshine does feel good on my skin. The scents and sounds of the city are so much brighter now than the last time I was out. Maybe Kris genuinely wanted what was actually best for me today.
We cross the street to the cafe and take a small table on the outdoor patio. I love to watch people on their way to live their lives. I create entire stories and scenarios for every one of them. Kris used to ask me about it, and we'd make a day of speculating where people might be on their way to or where they're coming from. That was before there were clients and appointments.
As if reading my mind, she gestures towards an incredibly well-dressed Beta rushing down the sidewalk. “Where's he going?”
I watch his quick steps and the way he checks his phone twice before he gets to the crosswalk at the corner. “He's late for his appointment at the spa. His Alpha expects him to be shiny and smooth when he gets home, but he has to go on his lunch break. Maybe we can hand him a to-go order on his way back to the office?”
She blinks at me and then lets out a laugh I haven't heard in years. “You're ridiculous.”
“Just wait,” I tell her. “He'll come limping back down the sidewalk in about forty-five minutes.”
She laughs again, but it dissipates when the server comes to take our order. She doesn't order her usual and opts instead for the special.
“And for you, sir?” the server asks expectantly. “Would you also like the special?”
I don't know what the special is, but I only ever order one thing from this place. I don't like to deviate from what works. “No, thank you. I'd like to get the basil pesto mozzarella melt with a veg medley.”
“You always get that,” Kris chuckles.
“It's my favorite.”
“Alright,” the server says brightly. “It'll be out shortly. Would you like to be topped off?”
Kris nods and taps her glass.
“I'd like to switch to water, please,” I say. “With lemon.”
“No problem.” The server nods and disappears inside the cafe.
Kris's brows bunch together. “You didn't want more wine?”
I didn't want the first glass, but she ordered it for me without asking. I drank half of it, but I wasn't in the mood for wine. Honestly, what I want is tea. I'd like a gallon of hot, steamy raspberry tea.
I shake my head. “I feel dehydrated. And the lemon will be good with my sandwich.”
“If you say so,” she hums and looks back toward the sidewalk across the street. “What about her?” she asks, nodding at the only woman currently on that side of the street.
She's wearing a suit, but she's carrying the large rectangular case of an artist. A complete contrast. “She's easy.”
