Wicked
Page 93
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"Well, I don't trust you either, so what-the-fuck-ever," Tink replied with a saucy grin as he stepped out from behind my leg.
Grabbing a scarf off the chair, I threw it at him.
He caught it, clutching it to his chest as he flew into the air. "You gave Tink a scarf. Tink is free!" He flew out into the hallway like a little cracked-out fairy, screeching, "Tink is freeeeee!"
Ren looked at me. "What in the actual fuck?"
I sighed. "He's obsessed with Harry Potter. I'm sorry."
Tink darted back into the room, holding the scarf to his bare chest. "There is no reason to apologize when it comes to Harry Potter."
"You do remember what happened to Dobby, right?" I said.
"Shit." Tink's eyes widened and then he dropped the scarf. "Fuck that shit. I'm hungry. Someone—no name mentioned—ruined my breakfast. So I'll be in the kitchen." He stopped and looked pointedly at Ren. "I got my eyes on you, buddy."
Ren lifted a brow.
Once I heard bowls clanging around in the kitchen, I focused on Ren. "Are you really okay with this? Because I need to know if you're not."
He stood. "Honestly? I think I'm a little dumbfounded by it right now." He walked toward me, snatching the fallen scarf off the floor then kneeling in front of the chair I sat in. "You have a brownie living with you. I've never even seen a brownie before."
"I didn't tell him about what you are," I whispered. "The Elite? Any of that? I don't think he knows."
He smiled crookedly, glancing at the door. "I thank you for that. God, I have so many questions I actually want to ask the little punk. Sorry, I—"
"No. He's a punk. He's proud of it." I smiled a little. "He'll probably answer your questions. He likes to talk, especially about himself."
Ren laughed under his breath as he placed the scarf on the arm of the chair. "A fucking brownie. Jesus. Not expecting that."
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.
His brows furrowed, and he looked like he was about to say something then shook his head. "You know," he said after a few moments. "I wanted to make today—well, what we have left of today—special for you. I thought I could make you breakfast and then maybe we could go somewhere. I don't know where, but anywhere." As he talked, my eyes widened and my heart squeezed like it had been put through a juicer. "Tonight is going to be hard, and I want you to have this day to just be happy." A flush crept over his cheeks. "Kind of sounds stupid now that I say it—"
"No. Not stupid." Scooting forward, I placed my hands on the sides of his face, the slight stubble tickling my palms. "It sounds brilliant." He turned, pressing a kiss against the palm of my hand and then the other. "You still up for it?"
"Most definitely."
"And if you make breakfast and save a little bit for Tink, he'd be really forthcoming with any information," I advised him.
Ren tilted his head against my palm, rubbing back and forth. Part of me was still worried over how Ren truly felt about Tink, but I did trust him to not say anything, and I could only hope that if Ren . . . if he stuck around, he would grow to accept Tink, maybe even like him. The latter was a long shot, but he was handling this better than I expected, and for that I was grateful.
"Let's do this then."
I let him pull me out of the chair, and still holding on to my hand, he guided me toward the hall. As I followed him, an unexpected cold chill snaked down my spine. Looking back into the bedroom at the rumpled bed and clothing strewn across the floor, all I could hope was that today wouldn't be my last happy day, that I'd have many more.
That I would have a tomorrow and so would Ren.
Chapter Twenty One
Surprisingly, Ren made breakfast and the three of us managed to eat the fluffy omelets without him trying to kill Tink once, and I was kind of amazed by that. Tink had answered Ren's questions about the gates and what the brownies had been doing in the Otherworld, but Ren didn't push beyond that. I could tell that he wanted to, but for some reason, he held back.
After we showered—separately, because it would've been weird at that moment knowing that Tink was fully aware of what Ren and I had done last night . . . and this morning—Ren and I spent the better part of the day along the Mississippi, doing the tourist thing. I skipped classes again, knowing that I'd pay hell when it came to catching up, but I was doing the whole here and now thing. I wasn't going to stress about it.
Although it wasn't the first time I'd ever been on a date, it was sweet and fun and so different to me that it did feel like I'd never done this before. Through idle chatter, Ren discovered that Tink was a baker and the reason for my late night trips in search of beignets.
"You really do care about him," he said, sounding stunned.
It struck me then how much I did, and I should've realized that when I hadn't turned him into a shish kabob when I found out he hadn't been upfront with me. Or when I'd laid out a thinly veiled threat that I would protect Tink.
The day passed by too fast, and when it came time for us to get ready for the night, we parted ways just as the storm clouds were starting to roll in again. Moments after I hailed a cab, he hauled me up against his chest and kissed me deeply, soundly, on the curb of Canal Street, and that kiss was like waking up in the sun. I was hot and bothered the whole ride back to my apartment.
Grabbing a scarf off the chair, I threw it at him.
He caught it, clutching it to his chest as he flew into the air. "You gave Tink a scarf. Tink is free!" He flew out into the hallway like a little cracked-out fairy, screeching, "Tink is freeeeee!"
Ren looked at me. "What in the actual fuck?"
I sighed. "He's obsessed with Harry Potter. I'm sorry."
Tink darted back into the room, holding the scarf to his bare chest. "There is no reason to apologize when it comes to Harry Potter."
"You do remember what happened to Dobby, right?" I said.
"Shit." Tink's eyes widened and then he dropped the scarf. "Fuck that shit. I'm hungry. Someone—no name mentioned—ruined my breakfast. So I'll be in the kitchen." He stopped and looked pointedly at Ren. "I got my eyes on you, buddy."
Ren lifted a brow.
Once I heard bowls clanging around in the kitchen, I focused on Ren. "Are you really okay with this? Because I need to know if you're not."
He stood. "Honestly? I think I'm a little dumbfounded by it right now." He walked toward me, snatching the fallen scarf off the floor then kneeling in front of the chair I sat in. "You have a brownie living with you. I've never even seen a brownie before."
"I didn't tell him about what you are," I whispered. "The Elite? Any of that? I don't think he knows."
He smiled crookedly, glancing at the door. "I thank you for that. God, I have so many questions I actually want to ask the little punk. Sorry, I—"
"No. He's a punk. He's proud of it." I smiled a little. "He'll probably answer your questions. He likes to talk, especially about himself."
Ren laughed under his breath as he placed the scarf on the arm of the chair. "A fucking brownie. Jesus. Not expecting that."
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.
His brows furrowed, and he looked like he was about to say something then shook his head. "You know," he said after a few moments. "I wanted to make today—well, what we have left of today—special for you. I thought I could make you breakfast and then maybe we could go somewhere. I don't know where, but anywhere." As he talked, my eyes widened and my heart squeezed like it had been put through a juicer. "Tonight is going to be hard, and I want you to have this day to just be happy." A flush crept over his cheeks. "Kind of sounds stupid now that I say it—"
"No. Not stupid." Scooting forward, I placed my hands on the sides of his face, the slight stubble tickling my palms. "It sounds brilliant." He turned, pressing a kiss against the palm of my hand and then the other. "You still up for it?"
"Most definitely."
"And if you make breakfast and save a little bit for Tink, he'd be really forthcoming with any information," I advised him.
Ren tilted his head against my palm, rubbing back and forth. Part of me was still worried over how Ren truly felt about Tink, but I did trust him to not say anything, and I could only hope that if Ren . . . if he stuck around, he would grow to accept Tink, maybe even like him. The latter was a long shot, but he was handling this better than I expected, and for that I was grateful.
"Let's do this then."
I let him pull me out of the chair, and still holding on to my hand, he guided me toward the hall. As I followed him, an unexpected cold chill snaked down my spine. Looking back into the bedroom at the rumpled bed and clothing strewn across the floor, all I could hope was that today wouldn't be my last happy day, that I'd have many more.
That I would have a tomorrow and so would Ren.
Chapter Twenty One
Surprisingly, Ren made breakfast and the three of us managed to eat the fluffy omelets without him trying to kill Tink once, and I was kind of amazed by that. Tink had answered Ren's questions about the gates and what the brownies had been doing in the Otherworld, but Ren didn't push beyond that. I could tell that he wanted to, but for some reason, he held back.
After we showered—separately, because it would've been weird at that moment knowing that Tink was fully aware of what Ren and I had done last night . . . and this morning—Ren and I spent the better part of the day along the Mississippi, doing the tourist thing. I skipped classes again, knowing that I'd pay hell when it came to catching up, but I was doing the whole here and now thing. I wasn't going to stress about it.
Although it wasn't the first time I'd ever been on a date, it was sweet and fun and so different to me that it did feel like I'd never done this before. Through idle chatter, Ren discovered that Tink was a baker and the reason for my late night trips in search of beignets.
"You really do care about him," he said, sounding stunned.
It struck me then how much I did, and I should've realized that when I hadn't turned him into a shish kabob when I found out he hadn't been upfront with me. Or when I'd laid out a thinly veiled threat that I would protect Tink.
The day passed by too fast, and when it came time for us to get ready for the night, we parted ways just as the storm clouds were starting to roll in again. Moments after I hailed a cab, he hauled me up against his chest and kissed me deeply, soundly, on the curb of Canal Street, and that kiss was like waking up in the sun. I was hot and bothered the whole ride back to my apartment.
