Page 11 of The Nephilim's Touch
“I’m definitely an asshole.” Van swipes his hands through his wet hair and squeezes. “Do I even enough time to change my ways? What if I can’t?”
“I think just the fact that you’re questioning if you can make it means you’re already trying to.” I want to reach out and squeeze his hand, but I don’t know how he feels about being touched and keep my hands to myself.
His mouth opens and closes. “Maybe.”
“And honestly, I don’t know that you’re really an asshole. Selfish,maybe? I don’t know you. All I’ve heard are stories by your friends and enemies.”
“I have enemies?” Van snorts as he slides a chair from the table to sit. “I mean, of course I do. I’m me, it’d be stranger if I didn’t have enemies.”
I join him at the table and scoot in. “What I’m saying is all I’ve heard are stories from other people. So… prove them all wrong.”
Another snort. “But more than likely, they’re all true.”
“Then make a new story, Van. Rewrite your life. This is a new start. Take the offering and run with it.”
“You sound like those hashtag manifesting people.”
“It’s nothing like that. You can set a new course for your life and maybe it’s better than what you have now.” I would know, but I’m not ready to tell him my whole life story. At least not yet.
“Aw, but right now, I got the nicest view in Hex.” Van winks and blows me a kiss. I fight off a grin because his pickup lines are so cringe, but I always fall for shit like that.
“Let’s get down to the rules. I’m not strict, but we’re both adults and I expect you to respect this place.” And my plant babies, but I keep that to myself. He probably already thinks I’m weird about them.
Van nods and gives me a one shoulder shrug. “I’ve always done my best to keep my place clean. Shouldn’t be hard.”
“Exactly. Around here we do not put things down, we put them away. Dishes don’t stay dirty in the sink.” I wave behind me. “They get washed, then stay in the drainer until I need them again.”
A half grin tugs at Van’s lips. “Noted. Though putting them in the cabinet might give you more space.”
“Some days I get them into the cabinet.” I chew my bottom lip and decide to just get out with it. “I’ve had to figure out my ADHD over the years. As long as I’m blasting music in my ears, I can get through any of my chores. But dishes and dusting. I’d rather step on Legos. So as long as I can get the dirty dishes clean and into the drainer, I’m good.”
“And I’m guessing dusting just gets forgotten?” Van asks as he looks around, no doubt inspecting my already ridiculously dusty floorboards. “Unless it’s your plant babies because Betty doesn’t have a speck of dust on her.”
“Not forgotten, per se. I always remember. But I choose to do other things, then feel guilty about it.”
“Sounds like a shitty cycle.”
I drop my head back. “It is. I’m so exhausted by the idea of dusting that I just don’t.”
“I’ll do it.” Van scratches his jaw. “I’ll pick up weekly dusting and a few other chores, since you’re sweet enough to let me stay for the cost of food.”
“Perfect. I have my chore chart on the fridge.” This is going way easier than I anticipated. But I hadn’t known what to expect when I offered the demon my apartment.
Van gets up to examine the chart and as he does, he swipes his finger over the top of the fridge and shows it to me. We both wince.
I drop my head to my hands. “That’s so gross.”
Van washes his hands and his tail wraps around his waist. I’m always fascinated by the tails of demons that come intoFlutter and Fangs. They’re always so expressive, as if they have a mind of their own.
“Personal question,” I start.
“Only if I get to ask one, too.” Van leans against the counter and watches me.
“That’s fair.”
“Then shoot.” He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for me.
“What does your tail feel like? Do you know when it’s moving? Is that your influence or?—”
