Berries and Greed

I eyed him over the rim of my cup as I took a sip. “What mixer though? I don’t know what I like.”

“Um, well, there are loads. Orange juice, lemonade, tonic, ginger ale, cranberry juice. I mean, you know all this from work. But… you know you don’t have to drink alcohol, Beryl. She won’t care.”

“I know, but I kind of… It feels like something I should do, right? Find ‘my drink’?” I said around air quotes. “Isn’t that a thing people have usually discovered by my age?”

“Not necessarily,” Greid said easily. “Some people just don’t drink, or don’t drink enough to care about stuff like that.” He hesitated, then shifted his leg to rub his calf against my thigh. “You don’t need to compare yourself to other people, Beryl. There isn’t a checklist that says you have to have experienced or settled on things by a certain point in your life.”

“It feels like there is,” I muttered into my cup. “It feels like there are all these unspoken rules that I just have to try and figure out without seeming like an idiot.”

“Yeah. I know. But trust me, berry, you’re not the only person who feels that way. I think most people feel that way. Except my douchey brother Nuni,” he added. “He acts like he’s got everything figured out.”

“Well, he probably doesn’t,” I said, realising I’d switched sides and was now reassuring Greid over the very thing he’d been trying to make me feel better for. See? Best team of two ever.

“Yeah, I know, and it’s not like it affects me either way.” Greid gave an easy shrug. “He’s just a jackass.”

“Maybe he’s overcompensating for something.”

“Probably, but if you asked him he’d just give some nonsensical reply about overcompensating for his gigantic dick.”

I snorted, grabbing the bag of pastries and peering in. “Ew, some blood from your blood tart got on my croissant.”

“I’ll eat it if you don’t want it,” Greid said quickly. “Now that it’s been contaminated with delicious jellified blood.”

“So gross. It’s lucky I love—croissants,” I amended quickly, aborting what had almost slipped out of my mouth. “Enough to overlook the blood on it. Here.” I held it up to him. “You take that bit.”

He grinned at me, sharp teeth sinking into the pastry and tearing off the edge with smears of dark red. Then he took a huge bite of his tart and gazed at me imploringly.

“Kiss me, Beryl,” he said in an overly breathy tone, voice muffled and crumbs spraying out of his mouth. And a smear of jellied blood on his teeth.

I burst out laughing, giving his shoulder a weak shove as he leaned in close. “Gross, you dork.”

“I’ll save you a bit in case you get super hungry when you’re high.” He took another bite and put the rest back in the bag.

“I will never be hungry enough to eat that, Greid.”

“You say that now.” He gave me a knowing look and shuffled out of the nest, then held out a hand to help me.

I took it and stood, but resisted when he tried to lead me over to the couch. Sidling closer, I rucked up the back of his onesie so I could reach underneath and run my fingers over the base of his tail. Greid’s spine shot straight, a tiny croak escaping him.

“Before we smoke…” I pressed myself against his front and gave him a sly grin. “Want to go back in the fort for a while?”

His throat bobbed with a swallow, eyes darting behind me to the closed curtain. “Yeah. Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent.”

“Excellent.” I turned back for the nest, but glanced at him over my shoulder. “Time for me to find your prostate, I think.”

“Nngh.” Greid followed willingly as I climbed back inside. “Feel free to take your time. No rush. I’m a patient guy.”

I grinned and echoed his words from earlier. “You say that now…”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Forty-Two

Beryl

“Okay.” I took a deep breath, my sweaty hand clutched tightly in Greid’s as we stopped outside Carnelians. “It’ll be fine, right? Once I’m in there, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I mean…” He peered into the bar, which was already busy, the big chandelier casting a sultry red glow over the interior. “It’s supposed to be fun, right? Not just tolerable. Not that I’d find it fun.”

“Maybe I’m more like you.” Although I was pretty sure I was just nervous and looking for an out. “Maybe I’m more socially anxious than I realised.”

“You’re not, Beryl.” Greid shook his head and looked down at me. “You’re nervous, which is normal. But you’re already friendly with Corva. Once you get in there and sit down, you’ll relax. It’s just you and her, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I peered in to try and find her, then froze. “Oh god, what if she invited a load of her friends without telling me?”

“I’m sure she didn’t,” Greid said patiently, looking through the windows. “What does she look like again? There’s a demiurgus lady sitting alone at the bar. She’s got red in her hair.” He squinted. “Or maybe that’s just the lights.”

“Corva has red in her hair, yeah.” I shuffled closer to him. “You saw her the first time we went to Deep Brew, remember? She was the lady arguing with her ex on the phone.”