Page 11 of Enticing the Elf
Groaning, I smack my head against my desk, managing to catch the edge of my keyboard. That just makes it more painful, but unfortunately doesn’t help at all. Sighing, I rub my forehead and invoke a small healing spell to prevent any bruising. That’s the last thing I need to explain.
So, using the furniture to beat myself up didn’t help… now what? What am I supposed to do? I promised Eoin I’d test him, and it’s bad enough that I’ve been toying with both our emotions for so long already. I can’t let him down by not following through. Even though I know the outcome is just going to hurt us both more.
Because no matter how much I want to keep Eoin forever, it would only make him miserable in the end.
Maybe this test idea is for the best. Eoin’s stubbornly refusing to see the truth in the situation, and this might open his eyes to reality. After all, what does it matter if we ended it yesterday or wait a little while longer, until he admits the test has convinced him he wants out? Either way will be less painful than committing to a relationship that’s doomed to fail.
And, as selfish as it is, I’ll still get to keep him for a little while longer.
But what the fuck am I going to use for a test? How do you test capacity for a long-term commitment without actually making a commitment?
“Dáithí?”
Startled, I snap my head up. Antje, one of my printer-jamming dragons, is on the other side of the desk, watching me cautiously.
“Yes?”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on my face. “Are you okay?”
My spine snaps straight, and I pull myself together. I willnothave rumors going around that something’s wrong with me. The piranhas don’t need to smell my blood in the water… or whatever it is that makes them circle. Or is that sharks?
“Of course I’m okay. Did you need something?”
“Only, you were staring into space and muttering to yourself. I had to say your name three times before you heard me.”
“You’re mistaken. What do you need?”
Antje frowns. “I’m mistaken? How can I be mistaken? I said your name three times, and you didn’t even notice me.” She’s not annoyed, more confused. Probably wondering if she actually could be mistaken. I love dragons, but their brains work differently from the rest of us.
“Antje. Do you need anything?”
“Oh.” She shakes her head as though dismissing a thought. “Yes, please. How do I make the printer copy this double-sided?” She holds up a piece of paper. “I did one copy to test, like you told me, but it only copied one side.”
I swear, there is a conspiracy in this office to see who can drive me into a mental breakdown. Someone must have the master spreadsheet with all the odds and people’s bets. I hope the pot is a big one, because when I find out who’s in charge, I’m confiscating every cent.
“There are instructions on the wall,” I remind her, not bothering to mention that we all had the exact same training on how to use the printer. We all came to Earth and learned to use the technology here at the same time, so the fact that half the people in the office are somehow incapablehasto be a conspiracy. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I walk her through the steps of using the tray feeder, point out the laminated step-by-step instructions taped to the wall, and wait to make sure she doesn’t accidentally jam the printer again—or worse. I’m not sure how, but dragons can make the printer do things the repair techs swear are impossible.
“Thank you so much, Dáithí,” she says when the last of her copies slides into the tray. She snatches them up and hugs the stack of paper to her chest. “You’re the best. I knew asking you for help was smarter than trying to work it out myself. My wife always tells me it’s okay to ask for help.”
My irritation dissipates. Sure, people can be exasperating, but most of them are pretty amazing when it all comes down to it.
“She’s right about that. Asking for help is—” I stop. Maybe smacking my head against the desk did some damage to my brain after all. The solution is so simple.
“Dáithí?” Antje’s giving me that concerned look again.
“I just remembered something I need to get done this morning,” I say, and her frown is chased away by a smile.
“I won’t keep you, then. Thank you!” She swipes herself through the security gate as I return to my desk and glance at the time. The lull will be over soon, replaced by the midmorning rush, but I have just enough time to make a call.
“Hi, Dáithí.” Jared’s greeting is cautious, and I remember that I never texted him back after his slightly pushy message about Eoin.
“Hi. Look, I don’t have a lot of time to talk right now, but I need your help.”
“Of course.” The caution is immediately gone from his voice. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come there?”
I pause, the shaky-warm feeling in my chest a surprise and also something I want to savor. I’ve had a lot of friends throughout my lifetime, but the closest ones were lost to the anomalies—one by one, in a slow attrition that carved itself painfully into my soul. My dearest friends and family members were whittled away, in some cases leaving me as the only one who could truly say I knew them. I have other friends, and many friendly acquaintances, but it’s been a long time since I asked anyone for help.
