11. Oliver’s Got Game

Chapter eleven

Oliver's Got Game

The demon Oliver had mowed over Saturday night outside the club was here. Right now. In the cafe. Just standing there. With an amused smile playing at his mouth.

"Hello, Oliver," he said, voice just as smooth and silky as Oliver remembered.

"Oh my god," Oliver whimpered.

Was it too late for him to hide? Maybe he could pretend to faint. Or feign narcolepsy. Maybe he could subtly punch himself in the face until he blacked out, and when he awoke, the demon would be gone, and Oliver could pretend that all of this had been nothing but a bad dream.

Oliver had nearly resolved to drop and fake a seizure when the demon smiled wider at him, revealing needle-sharp teeth. It made his stomach clench with instinctual fear and… something else. Something that settled lower. Something terrible and dangerous and wonderful, and he did not want to know what that said about him.

"Are you alright?" the demon asked, and Oliver tried to reply. He really did. His mouth was moving, but no words were forming. A strange squeaking sound was traveling up his throat and out from between his parted lips. But there were no words.

Oh my god, Oliver, say something! His brain screamed at him. Anything. Literally any combination of words would work at this point.

Oliver tried again but only managed an odd grunt.

The cartilage above the demon's eyes, where he would have had eyebrows had he been human, furrowed.

How long had it been since no one had spoken? It felt like years.

Jesus Christ, just say something . Say hi. Say hello. Say that you kind of want to know what his teeth feel like against your neck. If it consists of actual words, then for the love of god, say it!

Forcing his vocal chords to engage, Oliver opened his mouth and said, "Ungh, teeth."

The demon cocked their head. "What?"

Oliver said, "Teeth. My neck."

"Is he having a stroke?" Rusty said from beside him.

"I don't know," Gem said from his other side. "Maybe? I don't know anything about human ailments. Should we call emergency services?"

Those needle-like teeth captured the demon's bottom lip unfairly, amusement splashing in those yellow eyes, and Oliver choked on a manic laugh.

"I have narcolepsy," he blurted.

That brow cartilage rose higher. "Pardon?"

"Oh this is bad," Gem said.

"Should I hit him?" Rusty asked.

"Why would we hit him?" Gem asked in return.

Rusty shrugged. "They do that in human movies when someone's in shock."

"Oh." A dark gray hand shot out and smacked Oliver in the side of the face.

"Ow!" he cried, cradling his cheek as he glared at Gem. "What the hell, Gem?"

Gem pointed at Rusty. "Rusty told me to."

Rusty shook his head vehemently. "I did not. All I said was that they do it in movies."

"Well, maybe you should be more clear before you encourage physical violence," Gem reprimanded, and Rusty growled.

"I'm not the one who hit him!"

A smooth laugh cut through the argument, and Oliver turned back to the demon standing on the other side of the counter. He had a hand over his mouth, like he was trying to stifle the sound of his laughter, and electricity seemed to dance in his yellow irises.

Despite his embarrassment, Oliver found himself smiling back. The demon had a really nice laugh. Honestly, he had a really nice everything. His face, his body—it was all just very nice. He wasn't pretty, per se, but there was a grace to his features that contrasted with the fierceness of his sharp teeth and that static energy that buzzed in the air around him.

"Ew, look at his face," Rusty said.

"Aw, I think it's sweet," Gem cooed.

Oliver turned away from the chuckling demon and found Rusty and Gem staring at him. Gem was practically simpering. Rusty looked like he'd bitten into something rotten.

"What?" he asked them.

"How about you take this lovely gentleman's order, Oliver." Several hands prodded Oliver back to his spot behind the register. "Maybe ask his name. Maybe get his number."

"What?" he repeated, more panicked now. "No. You get his number. Shut up!"

Rusty winced. "Dude, is this human flirting? 'Cause, like, yikes."

"Shut your stupid face," Oliver hissed between clenched teeth, and Rusty raised his paws in the universal sign of surrender, shuffling back a step.

Facing the unjustly attractive demon, Oliver stared at the screen of the register and cleared his throat. "Hi. Hello. I'm Oliver. Which you know. Obviously." He chanced a glance up at the demon but averted his gaze immediately, unable to face him as the disaster continued to unfold. "What can I do to you— for you," he corrected, ignoring Gem's audible flinch. "I mean, your order. What can I put in you—put in for you. For you . Jesus Christ."

"Wow, this is painful," Rusty whispered.

"It's like a car crash," Gem whispered back. "You don't wanna watch, but you can't look away."

Okay, so English was hard today. That was alright. These things happened. Oliver would start simple. One word at a time.

With whatever dignity he retained, Oliver straightened his spine and looked at the demon, who was smiling at him like he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen. "Uh," he started. "Coffee?" He waved at the bakery case. "Food?"

There you go, Oliver. His brain gave him a mental high-five. Doing great. Keep going!

"Coffee or food?" he said, blindly gesturing to the menu boards behind him. "Coffee and food?"

"Oh my gods, make it stop," Gem said.

"We're in too deep now," Rusty lamented. "We gotta see it through."

Oliver wiped his hands on his jeans. When had he started sweating? Had someone turned up the thermostat? Because it felt offensively hot in this room.

Twining muted yellow fingers, the demon propped their elbows on the counter and rested their chin on their folded digits. "If those are my only options, I'll take a coffee."

"Coffee," Oliver parroted. "Okay. Yeah, I can do that."

"Yeah?" the demon said.

"Mhm." Oliver nodded, not trusting himself to speak any more words.

"You got this, Ollie," Gem whisper-shouted from behind him. "Stick the landing."

"I'll make you coffee," Oliver said.

"Little more," Gem coached. "Go a tad harder."

"The best coffee," Oliver added. "I'll make you the best goddamn coffee the universe has ever seen."

"Too much," Gem said, trying to mask his words with a cough. "Pull it back."

"Just a normal coffee?" Oliver corrected. "Nothing life-shattering. Perfectly average in every way."

"Still might wanna make it a good coffee," Rusty offered.

Oh sweet Jesus, what had Oliver ever done to deserve this? He'd never stolen anything. He'd never purposefully hurt anyone. Hell, he'd never even thrown a punch, not in his whole twenty-six—almost twenty-seven—years of life. He was, for all intents and purposes, a good person.

Sure, he'd made mistakes, but who hadn't?

Who hadn't?

"I'll make it a good coffee," Oliver said.

Those sharp teeth flashed. "An Americano will do."

Staring down at the screen of the register, Oliver typed in the order, upgrading the coffee to a large because, honestly, it was the least he could do after this .

"You don't remember me, do you?" the demon asked conversationally, like Oliver wasn't in the middle of a complete and utter mental breakdown.

"Trust me, I remember you," Oliver said, cringing at how harsh it sounded. "How's the shoulder?"

With a chuckle, he lowered his hands, one yellow-dipped finger drawing a nonsensical design on the counter. "My shoulder's fine, thank you. But I'm not talking about Saturday night. You don't remember the first time we met? I suppose it was several months ago."

Gem gasped dramatically. "Plot twist!"

His claim jarred Oliver from his humiliation-induced insanity, and he gaped at the demon. "What?"

He watched Oliver from under his lashes, yellow tongue darting across his lower lip to wet it. "I'd take it as a hit to my ego, but you were very drunk. We both were. Tends to happen in Gluttony."

And it all came rushing back. The night he, Jude, and a group of friends from college went to Gluttony, got sloppy drunk, and Oliver made out with a demon. A demon with seaweed hair. A demon who'd tasted like metal and lightning. A demon with bright yellow eyes.

"Oh fuck me," Oliver said.

"We never got that far," the demon said.

Another theatrical gasp from Gem. "Someone better get me a towel because the tea being spilled right now—"

"Gem, shut up," Rusty hissed.

"You…" Oliver pointed first at the demon, then at himself. "Me… We…"

"And there it is." The demon leaned closer, the end of his tie nearly hitting the edge of the register. "I wondered why you never called."

Oliver's brain was buffering or something, because he was unable to form words again.

"I mean, I did write my number in pen on your hand, which is a poor method of communication to be sure." The demon clicked his tongue. "And it seems you forgot all about it. Pity."

Unsure what else to say, Oliver settled on, "I'm sorry."

He tucked a chunk of his flat, kelp-like hair behind a sharply pointed ear. "You'd had a lot to drink. I can't exactly fault you for not remembering, can I?"

"This is better than Days of Forever and Dangerous Desires combined," Gem breathed.

"What are those?" Rusty asked.

"Um, only the two best soap operas in Hell. Where have you been living? Under a rock?"

Ignoring them, Oliver wracked his brain for more memories of that night all those months ago. He didn't remember much, but he recalled waking the next morning to smeared ink on his palm and cheek. Whatever had been written there was long gone by that point, and he'd spared no further thought on it.

Apparently, it had been a phone number—this demon's phone number.

"I would've called," Oliver found himself saying, and that yellow finger paused in its drawing, tapping the counter twice.

"What was that?"

His instincts told him to swallow the admission, to dismiss it, but his mouth repeated it anyway, "I would have called."

Lightning crashed through those yellow irises. "Is that so?"

Oliver nodded pathetically. Because, honestly, how could this get any worse? He'd met this demon twice, and both times he'd been sloppy drunk and had humiliated himself. And their conversation so far today was not going well for him.

Seriously, how could it get any worse?

It couldn't . Not in any way that actually mattered. And somehow, that realization broke through whatever mental block had turned Oliver into a stuttering, stammering idiot. Because there was nothing he could do or say that could significantly worsen the demon's impression of him at this point.

Hell, he was still here, wasn't he? After everything Gem had said, after everything Oliver had done, the demon was still here, smirking up at Oliver like he found him entirely charming.

"Fuck it," Oliver mumbled, and one of those cartilage brows arched. Thrusting his hand over the top of the register, he nearly nailed the demon in the face, but thankfully, he pulled back just in time. "Hi, I'm Oliver. I'm almost twenty-seven years old, and I'm from Montana. I live in Chicago, in a loft with my best friend and two other roommates. I work here. I make coffee. And take orders. And you're the hottest person I've ever met, which apparently makes me stupid. Sorry about that. What's your name?"

"Damn, I think he's caught his second wind," Gem said giddily.

For the first time since he'd arrived, the demon appeared nonplussed, but he slipped his smaller hand into Oliver's, his skin soft and smooth, fingers thin and delicate. But his grip was strong as he said, "My name is Liel. I'm thirty-one. I live on the east side of Gluttony, and I work at a legal firm in Greed as a corporate lawyer."—

"Corporate law. Cha-ching!" Gem trilled, but Rusty shushed him.

—"I've never been to Montana, but I have been to Chicago," Liel said, like Gem hadn't spoken. "And don't apologize. I rather enjoy making you stupid. It's charming."

Oliver laughed weakly. "Yeah, if you say so."

"I do," Liel said confidently. "I'm curious exactly how… tongue-tied I could make you."

Someone whistled, then Gem said, "I kinda want him to make me tongue-tied, if you know what I mean."

"Everyone knows what you mean," Rusty said flatly. "You're not exactly subtle."

"It's really nice to meet you, Liel," Oliver said as static electricity buzzed up and down his arm.

"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine," Liel said, and Oliver's stomach lurched.

When their hands finally parted, Liel arbitrarily straightened the knot of his tie, even though it hadn't drifted a millimeter from center since he'd walked into the cafe. Oliver raked a hand through his hair and chuckled sheepishly as he gestured to the menu boards.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else? Whatever you order is on the house, anyway, so take advantage. Mood shots, the whole lunch menu—you could literally take the entire bakery case. It's yours."

Liel barked an unsure laugh. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Not a threat. Just a promise," Oliver said.

"Oh, that was good," Gem said. "He might actually be able to salvage this."

"Still too early to tell," Rusty murmured. "Don't jinx him."

Liel hummed, one elbow returning to the counter as he studied Oliver with keen eyes. "Is this you offering to buy me coffee? Or are you implying my money's no good here?"

"Whichever offends you less," Oliver said honestly, and Liel chuckled darkly.

"Darling, if I was easily offended, I would have left already."

Utilizing courage he didn't feel, Oliver swallowed his nerves and said, "Well, since you're still here, can I offer you anything else?"

"That was pretty smooth," Rusty said.

"And just the right amount of suggestive," Gem purred. "Mmm, Oliver's got game!"

"Do you always offer such outstanding service to all your customers?" Liel asked, dropping his voice lower, making the word service sound utterly filthy.

"Not usually," Oliver said, thanking whatever deities existed that his voice didn't crack.

Those electric sparks erupted in Liel's eyes again, and the air charged. "So I'm special?"

"If you want to be."

Fabric fluttered, like Gem was fanning himself with a tea towel. "Whew, how is this getting hot?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Rusty said, sounding equal parts impressed and confused.

" Anything else is a broad offer," Liel said, ignoring the commentary going on behind Oliver. "Are you sure you want that as your opening argument?"

Oliver snorted. "I don't really have anything left to lose at this point."

"That's dangerous."

He shrugged. "I'm not too worried."

"Maybe," Liel whispered, giving Oliver a wholly inappropriate onceover, "you should be."

As hard as he tried, he couldn't stop a blush from warming his cheeks, but his voice was steady as he said, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Liel's hand fisted on the countertop, tendons pushing against his yellow skin. Then his fingers relaxed, and he said, "A large Americano with a generous shot of serenity. One of those"—his eyes jumped to Oliver's hair before he waved carelessly at the bakery case—"cute, little blondies. And your phone number. Or is that not on the menu?"

"I swear I am chubbing up right now," Gem said.

"You should probably keep that to yourself," Rusty said.

Oliver rang up the order using the touchscreen. "I think I can do that."

"No counteroffer?" Liel challenged.

"I didn't realize we were negotiating."

"Life's a negotiation."

Oliver pulled out his wallet and swiped his card through the reader. "If you're always out to win, then I guess so."

"Believe me, darling, I always play to win," Liel practically purred, and it made Oliver's stomach tremble.

Gem whimpered. "I am so hard right now."

"I'm pretty sure that's an inside thought," Rusty said.

"Lucky for you, I'm not that competitive," Oliver said, sliding the receipt across the counter. "I think I'll let you win."

Liel gracefully pressed three fingers to the receipt, index finger kissing the side of Oliver's. "Are you trying to seduce me, Oliver?"

Oliver's face was on fire now, but he refused to break eye contact. "Is it working?" Liel dipped his chin. Just once. "Then yes."

"Well, then…" Liel's finger hovered over Oliver's, and he jumped when a tiny shock of static electricity popped in the minuscule space separating their skin. "Consider me seduced."

"Consider everyone in this room seduced, oh my gods!" Gem said.

"Speak for yourself," Rusty said.

For one suspended moment, Oliver nearly clambered over the counter to kiss the demon, but he had enough self-awareness not to. He was at work under the scrutiny of not only his coworkers but probably the other patrons. He was indecently hard, his cock pulsing behind his zipper, and the only thing hiding it was the counter he stood behind.

He was pretty sure sticking his tongue down a customer's throat while he was on the clock was more than enough grounds for termination. Since he didn't want to get fired, he leaned back, exhaling in a rush as he cleared his throat.

"I'll get that coffee for you. You can wait at the other end of the counter." He nodded toward the opposite side of the espresso machine.

The smile Liel sent him was full to the brim with sinful promises. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"I think I just came a little bit," Gem squeaked.

Rusty groaned. "That is definitely an inside thought."

Spinning around, Oliver leveled Rusty and Gem with a furious glare. "Would you two shut up!"

Neither of them gave any indication they were intimidated; they just stared back at him, like they were just as shocked as he was about the whole situation.

Rusty sized Oliver up, before nodding. "Not bad, K.O."

Gem braced himself on the back counter with several of his arms as he fanned himself with another. "I need to lie down. And someone get me a glass of ice water. I cannot handle that kind of unresolved sexual tension."

And with that, he stumbled toward the kitchen, shouting, "Toni! Toni, I figured it out."

"What?" Toni yelled back.

"I figured it out!"

"Yeah, figured what out?"

"Ollie's type." Gem pushed through the doors, and they swung shut behind him. Unfortunately, they did nothing to muffle his next declaration. "He's into tentacles!"

"Jesus Christ," Oliver muttered as he got to work on the Americano, refusing to look the demon's way as Liel tried to smother his uncomfortable laughter with a cough.

A few minutes later, Rusty plopped a paper bag with the blondie inside next to Oliver as he secured the lid to Liel's to-go cup. "Don't fuck it up."

"Shut up," Oliver hissed.

Still riding the adrenaline rush, he hurriedly scrawled his number onto the side of the cup, then took a fortifying breath. His hands trembled slightly as he set the coffee and the bag on the counter and slid them toward Liel. The demon took them with another killer smile, and Oliver melted a little bit.

How was he this hot? It wasn't fair, honestly.

Before Oliver could pull his hand back, Liel captured it in his gentle, electric grasp. Producing a pen from the inside pocket of his blazer, Liel wrote a string of numbers across his palm, and Oliver was struck with a sudden and surreal case of deja vu.

It passed as quickly as it came, and then Liel was signing his name next to the phone number, dotting the i with a cute little heart.

"Just to be safe." He winked as he released Oliver's hand.

"Thanks," Oliver croaked.

"May I call you tonight?" Liel inspected the number Oliver had left on the side of his coffee cup.

"Sure." Liel arched a cartilage brow doubtfully, and Oliver nodded, voice firmer as he said, "Yes."

"Back to one word answers?" he teased, taking a sip of his coffee.

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. "I think I ran out of bravado."

Liel's flirtatious expression softened into something tender, and he reached across the counter to drag the pad of his thumb sweetly along Oliver's jaw. "You don't need bravado, darling. I quite like you, just as you are."

"You don't even know me," Oliver whispered, and Liel hummed.

"Not yet." With another sip of his coffee and a parting wink, Liel strode confidently toward the door, his Oxfords clicking against the galaxy epoxy floor. Right before he left the cafe, he paused and shot Oliver a charmingly seductive smile. "I'll speak with you soon."

"Okay," Oliver said, but this time, his voice did crack. He cleared it noisily, forcing out a much more manly, "Bye," but Liel was already gone, the coffee shop door shutting behind him with an anticlimactic click .