Page 1
Story: Petty AF
one
~ River ~
Seatedbehindanantiquedesk at the back of the studio, I rubbed the eraser of my pencil over the gleaming mahogany surface. It was a habit I’d picked up in middle school, an outlet for nervous energy. Judging by the pale line where I’d worn away the finish, that energy could power a city block these days.
I glanced at my cell phone where it sat atop my planner and sighed. Again.
“You still haven’t found someone?” Perching his bony ass on the corner of my desk, Otto Stillwater ran a hand through his short dark hair and smirked. “It’s been forever.”
“It’s been a week,” I countered.
“Like I said.Forever.”
Rolling my eyes, I snapped my pencil down on the desk with a bit more force than I’d intended. “I hate you.”
I didn’t. We both knew it. Born two days apart, Otto and I had been inseparable our whole lives, but we’d been connected long before that.
Our dads had also been friends since birth, and they still got together on weekends to drink beer and burn steaks on the grill. And our grandmothers had been partners in crime for over five decades.
“Fair,” Otto replied with a shrug, his golden-brown eyes twinkling with amusement. As he spoke, he casually plucked one of the hard candies from the ceramic bowl I kept there for clients, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. “What about Alex?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Alex had been great, and our breakup had been amicable. Largely because the shifter hadn’t possessed a personality of his own. Rather, he mimicked whoever happened to be closest at the time. Which was kind of the problem.
If I wanted my own thoughts and opinions echoed back to me, I’d buy a journal.
“Ethan?” he suggested.
I wrinkled my nose as I flipped my hair over my shoulder. Sure, the elf was pretty, but he also had more red flags than a circus tent. Then there was the fact that he’d unsubscribed from our four-month relationship via a generic text message before ghosting.
And it would be fair to say that, six months later, I was still a little salty about it.
“Max?”
I shook my head again. “He’s out of town this weekend.”
“Chase?”
“Mated.”
“Vincent?”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Mated.”
“Ian?”
“Also mated.”
Otto mirrored my frown. “Who does that leave?”
“No one.”
I had the coveted invitation—my golden ticket, so to speak—but as a human, I still faced certain restrictions. Namely, to even get through the doors, I had to be escorted by a member of the supernatural community.
Sadly, we had exhausted the lists of shadelings I knew well enough to ask for a favor. And with less than forty-eight hours until the biggest paranormal gala of the year, I had officially run out of options.
Like most businesses, I had come from humble beginnings, with only a handful of clients and a keen eye for detail. Over the years, I had cultivated relationships with tailors, boutiques, and local jewelry artists, all in an effort to bring my customers fashion-forward trends that didn’t break the bank.
~ River ~
Seatedbehindanantiquedesk at the back of the studio, I rubbed the eraser of my pencil over the gleaming mahogany surface. It was a habit I’d picked up in middle school, an outlet for nervous energy. Judging by the pale line where I’d worn away the finish, that energy could power a city block these days.
I glanced at my cell phone where it sat atop my planner and sighed. Again.
“You still haven’t found someone?” Perching his bony ass on the corner of my desk, Otto Stillwater ran a hand through his short dark hair and smirked. “It’s been forever.”
“It’s been a week,” I countered.
“Like I said.Forever.”
Rolling my eyes, I snapped my pencil down on the desk with a bit more force than I’d intended. “I hate you.”
I didn’t. We both knew it. Born two days apart, Otto and I had been inseparable our whole lives, but we’d been connected long before that.
Our dads had also been friends since birth, and they still got together on weekends to drink beer and burn steaks on the grill. And our grandmothers had been partners in crime for over five decades.
“Fair,” Otto replied with a shrug, his golden-brown eyes twinkling with amusement. As he spoke, he casually plucked one of the hard candies from the ceramic bowl I kept there for clients, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. “What about Alex?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Alex had been great, and our breakup had been amicable. Largely because the shifter hadn’t possessed a personality of his own. Rather, he mimicked whoever happened to be closest at the time. Which was kind of the problem.
If I wanted my own thoughts and opinions echoed back to me, I’d buy a journal.
“Ethan?” he suggested.
I wrinkled my nose as I flipped my hair over my shoulder. Sure, the elf was pretty, but he also had more red flags than a circus tent. Then there was the fact that he’d unsubscribed from our four-month relationship via a generic text message before ghosting.
And it would be fair to say that, six months later, I was still a little salty about it.
“Max?”
I shook my head again. “He’s out of town this weekend.”
“Chase?”
“Mated.”
“Vincent?”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Mated.”
“Ian?”
“Also mated.”
Otto mirrored my frown. “Who does that leave?”
“No one.”
I had the coveted invitation—my golden ticket, so to speak—but as a human, I still faced certain restrictions. Namely, to even get through the doors, I had to be escorted by a member of the supernatural community.
Sadly, we had exhausted the lists of shadelings I knew well enough to ask for a favor. And with less than forty-eight hours until the biggest paranormal gala of the year, I had officially run out of options.
Like most businesses, I had come from humble beginnings, with only a handful of clients and a keen eye for detail. Over the years, I had cultivated relationships with tailors, boutiques, and local jewelry artists, all in an effort to bring my customers fashion-forward trends that didn’t break the bank.