Page 16 of Hopelessly Teavoted
She tried not to take it personally that Azrael was taking a tour of their old high school instead of hanging out on her day off, but it did mean that she had finally tackled organizing and cleaning the apartment for a few hours, and then catching up on laundry.
Around noon, her phone buzzed, and she was glad no one was around to see how widely she grinned when it was him.
Azrael: Mrs. Kingfisher still works here.
Azrael: She was in charge of getting me a parking pass and staff badges.
Azrael: I was just sad not to have anybody’s ass to smack
Vickie: All you had to do was ask
Vickie: Kidding
She wasn’t, not entirely, but it was too easy to fall back into this, to pretend that what had happened in college hadn’t happened, and that they were still friends with potential the way they had once been.
They were still friends, though.
Azrael: That’s OK, probably best not to anger the person in charge of helping me if I lose my badge
Azrael: Which I don’t plan on doing. I’m still terrified of her.
Vickie: Any of the teachers we had there still?
Azrael: I think only Hammonds in science.
Vickie: Aww I loved her
Azrael: Yeah she seems great, still.
Azrael: You love to see your heroes live up to the hype
Azrael: My department chair is kind of an ass, though
Vickie: He comes into the shop, I’m pretty sure. Want me to poison his coffee?
Azrael: He unfortunately is on the list of people I ought not to anger. But I will keep it in mind.
Azrael: I’m trying to give him a chance. Maybe he’s just having a bad day. When we stopped by his office on the new teacher tour, he looked at me like I personally tried to turn in homework late to him.
Vickie: The offer for accidental coffee tampering still stands. Even if this text message chain would make me culpable.
Azrael: I’d magic away the evidence, international Witchery Council text law or not.
Vickie: That’s the Azrael I know and love
Dammit. Why did she have to say love ? Why was this friendship launching itself right back into her heart? That foolish organ should be working hard to forget all the catastrophe that had stretched between them.
Azrael: hah
Azrael: I bet you say that to all the people offering to commit crimes to clear your name.
Vickie: You caught me.
Azrael: Hey, would you maybe want to grab a drink with me? We could call it an early birthday toast. Just between friends.
Now she was grinning embarrassingly. The laundry buzzed, and she put the phone down for a moment. She could let him sweat while she switched it to the dryer.
Azrael: Just casual. It’s a casual drink invite.
Vickie: I’d love to. We can do the saltshakers, too, if you want
Azrael: Let’s keep this one about your birthday. Prissy said you’re busy this weekend, so Thursday might be better?
Fuck. She’d been trapped by Priscilla Hart.
At least there was no glitter in it; when they were growing up Prissy’s traps almost always included glitter.
Some weeks she and Azrael would come to school doused in it after a barrage of pranking back and forth, which was how someone started the rumor that Azrael was secretly a stripper.
She smiled. She would have been too shy to tell him that in high school, but he would make an absolutely fantastic stripper. He could have a whole broody, grumpy character going. And he would definitely look amazing in eyeliner.
Azrael: Kessel Run at 5:30, so we can catch happy hour?
After she closed the shop on Thursday, Vickie would have been embarrassed if anyone had seen how many outfits she tried on before leaving.
It was her birthday celebration, if a few days early, and she told herself that was why she opted for her best pair of jeans and a pink crop top, that it was totally casual to put on makeup and fix her hair for a birthday drink with a friend.
When she walked in, he was sitting at her favorite table, the one in the back.
There was a plate of nachos waiting in the middle of it.
If seeing him again was a death sentence for her resolve not to catch more feelings, well, this detail, him remembering that she’d mentioned this, and ordering snacks, was a final nail in the coffin.
She couldn’t help the goofy grin spreading across her face, or the enthusiasm in her steps toward him.
“I thought you might like these,” he said, the corners of his mouth sliding upward.
She leaned over and hugged him. It was a friendly thing, just a few seconds, but the feel of his arms immediately wrapping her, of knowing his response was to keep her closer, was enough to make everything hazy.
Touching him was too confusing. He smelled like he always did, like amber wood and lemon, and just like at the shop, he felt big.
More filled out than she remembered him being in college.
It was a strange sensation of the familiar and the unknown.
“What was that for?” he asked, his cheeks slightly flushed.
“For getting me nachos. And my favorite table.”
“Oh.” He smiled, relaxing. “Well, happy early birthday. I’d like to buy you a drink, too, but I wasn’t sure what you’re drinking these days, and I didn’t want to assume.”
The consideration of it was enough to make her want to hug him again. To climb him like a tree, really. She resisted and sat down instead.
The same server from before came back, this time dressed in a shirt that said Han Shot First. The beauty of small towns was that it was fairly easy to become a regular in a place like this.
“What can I get you? Greedo Mojito?” She smiled at his memory.
“Let’s do a Wretched Hive. I’ve always wanted to look into beekeeping. It seems kind of cool.”
“We locally source the honey for it, and buy the lemons from the same farm. It’s run by a wonderfully eclectic pair of sisters, who are shut-ins, and big cheese afficionados, too. The maple gin is local, too, so you might as well call it a Vermont Hive.”
“That would be slightly less on brand,” said Azrael, smiling. The waiter blushed, and Vickie wondered if there was anything there.
And why the thought stoked a tiny flare of jealousy in her gut.
Azrael put his hand on her shoulder, running his thumb down an inch for a second and biting his lip.
“It’s her birthday this weekend,” he said. “She’ll be twenty-six on Sunday.”
Daniel looked overjoyed. “Oooooh! I love birthdays. We have a whole birthday thing.”
“Oh,” said Azrael, looking at her nervously. “Oh no, I don’t know if she wants a whole thing—”
“Fuck yes, I do,” she said. “I love a birthday thing.”
The waiter nodded and hurried off to the bar. They could see him mixing the drink and then fiddling around with something underneath the counter.
He returned with Vickie’s drink and what looked like the top half of a Darth Vader helmet.
“We don’t do the mask bit anymore, but if you want, you can wear the birthday helmet.”
She plunked it on her head, hoping that Daniel was the sort to disinfect this thing between special occasions. He was already back behind the bar, wiping it down fastidiously, which was a good sign.
“That looks nothing like Darth Vader,” he said.
“I guess you really do need the mask, but I can appreciate, from both a selling beverages and a cleanliness standpoint, not handing one out to customer after customer in this particular scenario.” She wrinkled her nose.
“It’s giving the guy from Spaceballs ,” said Azrael, laughing in earnest. His eyes crinkled, and she felt that smile all the way to her toes.
Goddess, she loved it when he smiled.
“Use the Schwartz, Azrael,” she said, in her best Rick Moranis voice.
“I mean, I’m game for using Force in consenting situations between adults if you are.” His face was bright red now. His hands gripped the table, knuckles white, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Exactly what kind of ‘force’ would that be?” She leaned forward, chin on her hand, trying not to think of the sex dungeon they’d found in Hart Manor as kids.
He paused, eyes darkening, pupils wide, and ran a thumb across his jaw for a moment before answering. “Using the force of friendship, obviously.”
Vickie bit her lip, shaking off a slight disappointment. That was better, though. Easier. A much safer idea than what she’d momentarily envisioned.
“Speaking of friendship, how do Monday or Tuesday night sound? For the contacting, you know.” Telling herself this was for friendship alone wasn’t entirely a lie; while it might be a little romantic to meet her former, well, whatever he had been to her, so late, she was always up at such hours already after work weekend nights prepping pastry and the like for the weekend rush.
Her birthday wouldn’t make her any less in debt to the bank.
“Yeah,” said Az, swallowing the last of what looked like a cider.
“Let’s do Tuesday. That works better for me.
” He glanced at the menu. That little crease between his brows was back, and she wanted to smooth it away with her thumb.
“Hey, want to split the ice cream sundae they have here? They call it a Hoth Planet Explosion.”
“Is that even a question?” She had missed this. The friendship, the easiness between them. Maybe they could just not talk about what had happened. Pretend it away.
Pretending could work. It had to.