(Continuation of my other writing: should’ve known/we need a human?)

“I’m going to my Mom’s this afternoon.”

Issac, who had come a few minutes earlier to join me on our lunch break while the kids were in the cafeteria, looks up from his phone and nods, chewing on the chunk of sandwich that’s bulging from his cheek.

“That’s good,” he says after swallowing, “Well, as long as she doesn’t say something that makes you burst into tears.”

I sigh. My—Issac’s, really, since I raided his fridge before work—strawberry yorgurt in my mouth feels spoiled and sour at his words.

“So…not good?”

I shrug. “As you said, it depends on what she says.”

Issac makes a low humming noise, looking at me with his black eyes as though he’s going to say something, but then hesitates and says nothing.

“What.”

“Hmm?”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Just—oh, don’t look at me like that, it’s nothing bad—your Mom is a little….”

I toss my yorgurt in the trash underneath my desk. “A little wonky?”

“A little bit of a passive aggressive bitch.”

“Don’t call my Mom—“

A bitch.

A passive aggressive person would be better. But I see where Issac is coming from. Last time we went to go visit my Mom, she repeatedly asked why Issac was dating David while trying to make be “un-gay” I think. Some of the questions were…not appropriate…so Issac left, uncomfortable, and never went with me to see her again.

As much as I love her, I wish I had the same opportunity.

I stare at her well managed lawn in the afternoon sun as I wait for her to open her front door. There are gnomes hidden the grasses and weeds, small enough to be a rock; their red pointed hats tall in the grass. I don’t even know why she keeps those things. She hates them.

The door opens and a small woman with gray hairs streaking through her matted braids is in its place, arranging her glasses, similar to the brand of mine, and squinting up at me. A smile slowly spreads across her warm brown face, and I gather her in my arms.

“Hey, Mom.”

“They broke up with you?”

It’s so similar to when I came to Issac’s place last week, expect that she has an excited lip to her voice, that I laugh.

And cry a little bit. But just a little bit.

I’m getting over it.

I am.

                   [*+*+*]

GAVIN

“A human.”

“Yes, a human.”

“It didn’t say that in the flyer.”

“Yeah, well, we both know the Queen is indecisive. Changing things last minute is usually what she does.”

Ashvier stares at me, his forgotten pie half-eaten and crumbs on his face. I reach out and brush them off of his freckled pale face with my thumb in attempt to lighten up the mood. He doesn’t seem angry—more thoughtful than that. I’m hoping he’ll forget all about this contest. We don’t have to prove ourselves to our parents, and we never did. We can just go elope like any other disgraced children.

“We’re still in it,” he says, brushing my hand away to stand, “I want to do this the right way.”

I scoff. “The right way for your parents and mine would be not to do this at all. Two different races—who have hated each other since the beginning of time—having their princes marry. The audacity!”

“Shut up, Gavin. We’ll have to go to the mortal realm, of course, to find a human. But how will we know which one to pick?”

Our house is warm and I lean back to take a quick nap. Ash usually does the planning, and I do the doing. More than happy to really. It’s fun—sometimes—and it makes my beloved happy.

“How about,” his voice is right by my ear, startling me when I open my eyes to see his gaze on mine, “we go there together. Me as my deer form, and you Cloaked. Whichever human looks at us first will be the one we take.”

I shrug, still not happy about this but knowing I have no choice in that matter. “Sure, why not.”

“Now, all we have to do is convince your sister to give us her book.”

I smile, walking to the door to grab my Cloak. “That’s the easy part.”

——

(I’m just trying to finish my drafts. I have like 79 remaining. 💀 Thanks for reading. Aaand that’s enough.)