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There is a beautiful mural of a wave painted on the wall as we get in line.

“Could I please get grilled chicken ramen with extra chicken? And a brown sugar milk tea,” Vega says. Her voice is smooth and warm, with a deep timbre.

I order the same, without all the extra chicken, and some kind of passion fruit drink with popping pearls that sounds appealing.

Walking up to the machine to pay, Vega bumps me out of the way with her hip and places her phone on top of the machine.

“As the person who gets to decide if you deserve a pay raise, you deserve a fucking pay raiseanda free meal” Vega whispers to where no one can hear, and I flush.

“Vega, I make the base adjunct pay, which is not bad at all. I can pay for myself.”

“You are doing more than any other adjunct, and frankly more than many of the other professors. Don’t argue with me; I’m paying for your food.”

I sigh and accept. I hate to say this, but I love it when she’s bossy. When men tell me what to do, it makes me want to scream, but when Vega does it, something melts inside me. I immediately want to abide. Maybe I should bring this up in therapy too. Bisexuality is strange. Sometimes it feels like my personality alters a little, depending on the gender of my partner. But Vega isn’t my partner.

The server calls our number.

“Do you want to sit outside? The weather is really beautiful out,” I suggest.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

I roll my eyes. “Has that line ever worked onanyone?”

“It just did.” She winks. “Yeah, let’s eat outside.”

Grabbing the tray, Vega and I open the door that leads to the patio outside. The air is slightly chilled, and it’s refreshing. We sit down, and I watch as Vega takes a massive bite of chicken.

“Can I ask a silly question out of ignorance? I’m just seeking to understand you better,” I say nervously. I hate asking people—monsters, humans, anyone—of different cultures or from other planets questions about why they do things. They don’t owe me anything, but I want to know everything about everyone. It fascinates me. Admittedly, I’m also terrified I’ll come across as rude or insensitive.

“Go for it.”

“I’ve noticed… orcs eat a lot of meat? Like, a lot more meat than humans. Is there a reason for that?” I ask.

Vega’s golden eyes shimmer back at me. “That’s not something we’re sensitive about, so don’t worry. Our bodies simply demand more protein. It’s one of the reasons orcs are naturally more muscular.”

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.” There is a group of voices singing, and the sound of marching footsteps from around the corner.

“Are you kidding me? Did you pay these people to follow us?” I ask V as they get closer to the restaurant.

Vega smirks, one corner of her mouth perking up. “No, but I wish I orchestrated this. It would make this one hundred times funnier.”

They continue singing as they walk, until the carolers are standing directly in front of the patio. There’s only a few other people on the deck, and everyone seems to be amazed by the singers. Everyone but me, apparently.

I don’t know whether to laugh or scream when they all open up their coats and take out a plethora of hats. From Santa hats to elf ears, everyone sticks something on their head.

“Isn’t it kind of weird that people still dress up as Christmas elves, when actual elves exist?”

“Yeah, a bit. I think they call them something else now… Santa’s fae? Something like that,” Vega says as the carolers continue. “Most elves are so tall, they don’t look anything like Santa’s helpers.”

“Except my elfborn family. We inherited so many elven traits, except the height.”

Vega’s smirk widens into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on her. “They should cast you guys next time.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Sh!” A human woman shushes me, and I look at V with wide eyes.

We continue eating our ramen in silence, the sound of Christmas music grating in my ears. There’s no place I’d rather be than here with Vega, being tortured by Christmas carolers, day dreaming about a future we might never have together because of stupid fucking work policies. I wish I didn’t love my job so much.