2. Date with a Dinosaur

When the asteroidentered our solar system headed straight for Earth, we thought that surely we would all die.

Sometimes I'm not sure if what actually happened was worse. The asteroid hit and destroyed a few towns on the eastern seaboard, but the biggest catastrophe wasn't the strike itself, all the people lost to it, or even the fallout. It was what the asteroid did after it landed.

To this day, it seems random who was affected by the asteroid and who wasn't. I was spared and so were my parents. One of my cousins, though, didn't get so lucky. She works at a turkey processing plant in Idaho, and after the asteroid did its thing... well, she isn't so human anymore. Now she has a beak and a wattle and wings for arms, complete with feathers. She's just one of billions of people who were irrevocably changed by the asteroid. Nothing on planet Earth will ever be the same again.

Now, though, enough time has passed that everyone has grown accustomed to seeing their former friends and colleagues deeply changed. My dad's boss is a deer-man now because he was out hunting when the asteroid smashed into Earth. He has big antlers that hit the doorframe whenever he enters or leaves his office, and dainty little hooves.

"At least I don't need to wear shoes anymore," Dad's boss said. He also isn't much of a meat-eater now.

The asteroid didn't change anything for me. I had no life plan before it, and I still don't now. I've hopped from dead-end job to dead-end job for years. Out of high school I was a waitress at an iHop, then I became a night concierge at a hotel until I fell asleep on the job and got fired. I'm just really good at screwing up, as it turns out. I had an admin assistant gig for a small construction office, but I routed a big, important business call to my mother's house by accident and that was enough to get rid of me in the first round of layoffs.

Swipe. Ding. Swipe. Ding.Another box of cigarettes, another Snickers bar, another twenty dollars on the pump, please. Working at a gas station convenience store is lower than I ever thought I'd drop, but the pay is decent and the hours are just what I like: I start in the afternoon and work through the night when the fewest number of people are coming through. It leaves me alone most of the time to read magazines off the shelf or play Candy Crush on my phone.

While I'm playing, I think about how my cousin can't use a smart phone anymore thanks to her stupid wings. I wonder how she's getting along and think about calling to check in, until I remember—right, the wings. Maybe she has a bluetooth thing figured out now.

I'm swiping a customer's card and handing it back to her, trying not to get my hand clipped by her sharp cat's claws, when a hooded figure steps inside the gas station. People in hoods aren't necessarily suspicious, but it's the stiff hunch of the shoulders and the hands buried inside the front pouch pocket that rings an alarm bell in my mind. Whoever it is, they're anxious, and what would they be anxious about in a convenience store unless they were tripping on acid or about to rob me blind?

I finish up the housecat woman's transaction, keeping my eyes on the hooded figure as he starts browsing the aisles. A huge green tail sprouts from underneath his hoodie, thick, long and scaly with dark, bumpy ridges winding their way up the spine. He's one of the Affected, clearly, though I wonder what creature he merged with to wind up with a tail like that one. His feet are hidden inside heavy combat boots covered in buckles, and the tromp of his soles follows him around the store.

Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, because he only seems interested in the sunflower seeds. It's hard not to be suspicious when you're a mid-twenties woman working late nights alone, but I have to give people the benefit of the doubt. So I pull out my phone and start browsing Instagram, waiting until he's found whatever midnight munchie he's looking for.

"Put your hands up."

The voice is deep and commanding. When I look up, there's the pitch black barrel of a gun pointed right at my face.

God damn it. My instincts are always right.

Behind the gun, the hooded man has deep-inset eyes that are completely yellow with no sclera. His snout is rounded with two flared nostrils at the tip, and his fangs are bared. Underneath he wears a black, spiked collar, and the hand he's holding out with the gun is similarly wrapped in studded leather.

He must have merged with some kind of lizard in the incident. That's the only way to explain the clawed hand that flicks the safety off the gun.

"Hey, hey," I say, holding up my hands in surrender. "There's no need, man."

The lizard guy tilts his head to one side. "Are you going to give me the cash in the register, or what?"

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Come on, have you ever worked in one of these places? I can't open the register unless there's a transaction. I'm not the manager or anything."

"That's bullshit," he says. A piercing in his right nostril jangles as he inhales a sharp breath. "I've seen this in movies a dozen times."

"Real life isn't a movie," I say. "If you want this register to open, you're going to have to buy something."

Grumbling, the lizard seems to accept that I'm telling the truth, and he drops his eyes to start browsing the candy selection below the counter. While he's distracted I try to think: How can I get out of this alive with my job intact? If he robs me, I'm definitely going to get fired—I've been on thin ice with this boss for a while. I can't get booted out on my ass again.

While my assailant is trying to decide between white and milk chocolate Reese's, I take a deep, steadying breath. Courage has never been my biggest strength, but my fear of being unemployed is powerful, so I reach out to snatch the gun from his hand.

"What the fuck?" Though I've managed to get my fingers around the barrel and push it away from my face, the lizard still has control. His glare is scathing as he tries to yank the gun out of my grasp, and the barrel swings to one side and then the other when I don't let go. I hope to god he doesn't accidentally shoot me.

"Are you crazy?" He steps back and pulls with all his might—which only drags me up and over the counter since I'm not about to let go of that gun.

"You're the one trying to rob me! Who's the crazy one here?" I manage to sound flippant even though my heart is pounding like a drum circle in my ears.

"Let go!" Now I'm on top of the counter, and I have a firmer grip on the gun than I did before. His hands are big and bulky, and he seems to have a harder time holding onto the metal with his slick scales than I do with my soft, squishy skin. The lizard's hoodie has fallen off, revealing the high, spiked ridges that run all the way up his back and end between his eyes. With the piercings in his eyebrow and his ridges, he's actually kind of cute.

"I'm not letting go, so either you drop it, or—" I'm cut off when he finally drags me all the way over the counter, sending me crashing into him. As we tumble to the floor the gun goes flying across the convenience store, skittering on the cheap linoleum.

My attacker is now underneath me, and his muscles are so dense he didn't do much to cushion my fall. Now I've had the breath knocked right out of me. Gasping and aching, I reach for the gun, but the lizard is stronger than I am. With a deft heave he pushes me off, and his significantly longer arm starts fishing for the gun. What he doesn't know is that I'm much more desperate than he is, so I'm quicker to rise to my feet. I make a point of stepping on his arm as I pass, and he roars in pain—a sound that is definitively inhuman.

Then the gun is in my quivering hands, the barrel trained on the lizard in the hoodie. He starts to stand up.

"Stay where you are!" Even I can see the wobble of the gun. I've never held one before, and I definitely don't know how to use it. Sure, you can push the trigger, but what then? I can't kill someone, especially this handsome lizard with a choke collar. Maybe I'd get a self-defense pass in the eyes of the law, but that would never allay my guilt.

His bright yellow eyes seem to understand all of this in that split second, because he spins like a top and takes off out the door at a run.

Damn it. I should let him go and figure out later what to do with the gun. I could call the cops right away and explain what happened, but I'd have no video to back me up. The camera with the red blinking light is fake, designed to ward off petty thieves like this one without costing my cheap boss and a few extra bucks.

No, this bastard tried to rob me. I'm going to force him to apologize, and then I'm going to turn him in. Maybe there'll be some reward money in it for me. So I press the button under the counter to call the police and then take off after him.

Those heavy combat boots won't get him very far—not at a good clip, at least. Unluckily for him I'm in my sneakers, thanks to the fact I have to stand up all day at work, and I weave through the gas pumps after his retreating shape.

"Stop!" I yell out, waving the gun over my head. He doesn't listen, of course, and races across the street toward the trees. We're on the edge of town, but I know these woods well because I usually come to smoke weed here on my break. Fine. If he's going to make this into a chase, I'll give him a chase.

Even though I've lost sight of him through the trees, I can easily hear his heavy boots crunching twigs and pine needles up ahead. I pick up my pace, my lungs fighting the whole way as I crash through the brush. What he doesn't know? There's a drop-off coming up ahead that heads down into a deep ravine. That's Oregon, for you—you can't tell when there's going to be a big ravine.

"You're going to fall if you're not careful," I shout after him.

"Piss off!" he shouts back.

Great, that makes it easy to hone in on his location. I power on ahead in the direction of his voice. Then I hear a shriek, and the cracking of branches as he starts his tumble down the steep hill. Just as I reach the edge and come to a stop, the sound of crashing halts and a deep, pained groaning follows.

"Told you," I call down to him. The lizard guy just groans again, deeper and more pained this time, and now I'm worried those cops are going to come and find a body.

There's only one thing I can do. I drop the gun at the base of a tree and lower myself over the side of the ravine, holding onto a thick root. Rappelling down makes me wonder how on earth I plan to get back up again, but now I'm halfway there and I don't have a choice but to keep going. Ferns whip at my face as my hand slips, and when I grapple at the hillside to stop my fall, my fingers come away empty and covered in mud.

Great.

With one misstep I start to slide down the hill myself, but I have less far to go. Each bump knocks the wind out of me, and when I finally come to a stop, I'm halfway into a blackberry bush, the thorns pricking me like I'm a pincushion.

"God damn it," I grumble, extracting myself from the bush and leaving gashes in my shirt and jeans.

The lizard guy lies nearby in a wet divot in the ground, struggling to get up. "Why are you chasing me?" He has to gasp to get the words out.

"You're the one who put a gun in my face," I say, finally righting myself. "I deserve an apology for that."

His big mouth falls open, revealing two rows of sharp teeth. "You've got to be kidding." He tries again to sit up, but he groans in pain and clutches his side. "I think I broke a rib or something, and it's just because you wanted an apology?"

Standing over him like this, I can get a better view of his anatomy. He has textured ridges for eyebrows, and two rings in the left one. I think it's a tattoo on his neck peeking out from under his hoodie. His body is huge and muscular, and I'm not sure how I managed to knock him down. Gosh. For a guy who got merged with a lizard by the asteroid, he's pretty hot, even though now he's covered in mud.

I crouch next to him and hold out my arm. "Here, take my hand. I'll help you up."

"What?" He pushes me away. "Piss off. I've got this." He tries again to stand up, but he can't get his legs under him. I grab him by the bicep and pull. Finally choosing to lean against me, he manages to get to his feet.

He pushes me off as soon as he's upright, and falls back to lean against a tree. "You're fucking crazy," he says, gasping and clutching his side.

"That's what everyone tells me." I gesture at his injury. "Can I look?" I need him to be fine. He could easily tell the cops I pushed him into the ravine, and then I'd be under scrutiny, too.

He growls like he's going to object, but now that we're standing in front of each other he's frozen, his eyes roving up my body until they land on my face. His lip curls on one side, revealing more teeth.

"Fine." He holds his arm away from his injured ribcage. "Go ahead, look. As if that will help anything."

When I bring my hand up to test his side, I'm surprised that he's rather warm. "I thought lizards were cold-blooded," I say, pressing down slightly on his rib. My dad is a nurse, and I've nearly broken my ribs enough times to know what to look for. The lizard guy grunts, but doesn't push me off.

"I'm not a lizard," he says between gritted teeth. "I'm a dinosaur. Well, partly dinosaur—an Allosaurus. You know."

I test another rib and again he flinches, but this one isn't broken, either. He'd be making a much worse sound right now. "Were you at a museum or something when it hit?" I ask.

"No. I was at a dig site."

My hands stop. "A dig site? Like, archaeology?" I stand back, and he drops his hoodie back down.

The dinosaur guy rolls his eyes. "Yeah, like archaeology."

"I don't think any of your ribs are broken," I say. "You're just really bruised."

"Wow, thanks, doc. I'll be sure to take your word as gospel." Despite the tough talk, he's still using the tree for support.

I tilt my head. "What's your name?" If we're going to get out of here, I should at least know what to call him.

"Why do you care?" He squints at me. "So you can tell the cops where to find me?"

"Look. We're going to need to work together to get back out. So just tell me. I could already identify you to the cops if I needed to. You're pretty easy to pick out of a crowd."

He chews on that for a moment. Finally he says, "Lester. It's an old dude's name. A tribute to my mom's dad."

That's a surprising amount of information. I hold out my hand to shake. "I'm Remy. Named after the X-men character."

His eyebrows jump, pushing his ridges back. "You're named after Gambit?"

"Both my parents are big nerds. So are you, apparently."

His chuckle is hearty and deep. "I haven't always been robbing gas stations."

I'm starting to wonder about that now. Why was an archaeologist who likes comic books trying to throw down in my convenience store?

"What happened to you?" I ask.

His face closes up, like a shoelace pulled tight. "Nothing. Just hard times, you know?"

"No, I don't know." I was fine after the asteroid. Now he's half Allosaurus, and I can't imagine how that feels. "Not like you."

I thought he might get angry, but instead Lester's head droops. "I just couldn't handle it." He's no longer looking at me. "I broke down. Couldn't do my job. They took pity on me for a while, but once I got into drugs, it was easy to let me go."

Oh. So that's how he ended up here. "I think I can guess the rest."

Grunting with effort, Lester pulls himself up straight and stretches out his arms—but then he doubles over again. I wrap an arm around his side to help him stay upright.

"Thanks," he says, then shakes his head furiously. "Wait. I shouldn't be thanking you. You're the reason I'm here."

"Reminding you once again that you're the one who tried to rob my store." I point ahead of us, down the length of the ravine. "We can't get out by going straight up. We'll have to walk a ways until it gets shallower, by the river."

Lester huffs out a weary sigh. "You have to be kidding."

We start to walk, Lester leaning on me even though I'm more than a foot shorter than he is, not including his ridges.

"Did you get the piercings before or after?" I ask.

"Before. The tats, too."

"So an archaeologist with piercings and tats."

"We're people, too!"

I can't help but laugh. I like how deep and gravelly his voice is. I like how he smells, his arm slung over my shoulder. Whatever deodorant he's got on, it was a good choice.

"Maybe this is your wake-up call," I say. "Being chased by a girl until you fall into a ravine."

At this, Lester falls silent. He looks like he regrets a lot of things. "Yeah. Maybe so." He swallows hard. "It's just... I don't feel like a man anymore. I can't even get girls, not like I used to."

That strikes me as unfair. He's still pretty hot. Strangely, bizarrely hot for being part dinosaur.

"Maybe you're not looking in the right places," I suggest.

This earns me an arched eyebrow. "Where should I be looking?"

I don't know. Right at me, I guess.

"Unconventional places. There must be, I don't know, a website for people who are into that kind of thing."

"Which website, pray tell?"

I can feel that I'm flushing, so I look away quickly. "Whatever. I'm sure it's out there."

But Lester just hums. After a few moments of charged silence, he says, "Are you talking about people like you?"

It's so blunt that I cringe. The mud squishes under my sneakers, getting into my socks. "Maybe."

Silence falls again, and it's full of some unidentifiable tension. Then Lester comes to a stop, and I have to stop with him.

"What is it?" I ask. "Does it hurt more?"

He doesn't answer. His yellow eyes latch onto mine, and there's a grin pulling at the sides of his long snout. "No." He tilts his head down so our faces are suddenly very close together. "I'm just curious now, about this girl who has a thing for monsters."

My eyebrows pull together. "Monsters?" I ask. "You're not a monster. You're an Affected."

"I'm part dinosaur, Remy." He barks a sad, desperate laugh. "That's what I call a monster."

I wish he could see what I see—a guy with a pretty kissable face. A guy who could probably do some wicked things with that long tongue.

"And so what?" I ask. "You're still worthy of love and affection, no matter what you look like. And I rather like how you look."

The clever smirk falls from his face. I take that moment to lean upward and press my lips the front of his snout.

Lester jerks back in surprise. After a beat, he gapes down at me.

"Oh," I say, stepping backward, putting distance between us.

"Did you just...?" His brain is sorting through what I've done, and I'm not sure if he's coming to a good conclusion or not.

"I'm sorry." I bring my hand to my mouth. "I didn't mean to—"

His arms swoop around me and before I can regain my footing, he's brought me upward so my face is right in front of his. Lester captures my lips with surprising force, and immediately they part for his larger, scaly ones. His mouth is softer than I expected, and deft as it maneuvers around my lower lip, suckling it before moving on to my top one. I gasp into him and he swallows it up, his arms weaving even tighter around me, pulling my waist against his.

Wow. Who knew a dinosaur-guy would be so good at kissing? I'm sinking into him, chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip. Every movement of his lips is like a soft breath over hot coals that's slowly nursing them into flames. The moment his tongue slips into my mouth, my lower body clenches. Oh, that tongue—it mesmerizes me as it winds around mine, longer and slimmer and much more pointed. He grazes my lip with one of his sharp teeth and a moan escapes me. Instantly, his hold tightens, and the tips of his claws scrape the fabric of my shirt. I wonder what those claws would do to my skin, and blood rushes downward into the pond between my legs.

That's when I hear the sirens.

"Oh, shit," I mumble, pulling away from Lester. He blinks a few times, then those ridged eyebrows lower in suspicion.

"You called the police?" He draws back abruptly, and his hands fall away.

"Yes, but that was before—"

"Fuck." He doesn't let me finish, dragging a clawed hand over his face. "I'm so fucked."

"No, no." I put a hand on his chest, trying to stop his recoiling from me. "Look, we'll just tell them that—"

"There's video footage, isn't there?" Lester shrugs me off. "Damn. I'm so going to go to jail."

I need to stop this train wreck. "I'll make sure you won't," I say, as earnestly as I can. "It was a miscommunication. That's all. There's no video footage."

His head tilts towards me, still angry, but perhaps less so. "None?"

"None."

With a groan Lester turns away from me and starts to jog on ahead. I have to run to catch up because his legs are so much longer than mine.

"Where are you going?" I ask him.

His answer is gruff. "To clean up this mess you've made."

"You're the one who put a gun to my face," I say, grabbing his sleeve to stop him, but he just yanks it away.

"So you keep reminding me." But the words are laced with shame.

I grumble. "I feel like it's an important piece of context to keep in mind."

Lester just continues on ahead, the ravine widening out ahead of us. Police lights flash against the trees. I want to salvage this, because I've never felt anything like what I felt when his tongue invaded me. Now all I can imagine is how else he might fit inside me. But he's closed off completely as we reach the shallow end of the ravine and it seems there's no going back.

The cops take our statements. I admit to panicking a little when Lester came into the store with his head covered. He admits to carrying two boxes of Milk Duds in his pocket that looked like a gun. What they don't know is the real gun is still somewhere out in the woods, tucked under a tree.

The sheriff's pissed at me for placing a call when I supposedly didn't need to, and confused as to why we emerged from the woods together while two customers were waiting at the door to be served. Anyone could have stolen anything while I was gone. I'm sure word will get back to my boss, and then I'll lose the job anyway—but I'm not going to be the one to tell him what happened tonight.

No camera, no evidence.

Now that the cops are done with us, Lester leaves and I run to talk to him before he can get in his car.

"Wait. Please." The backs of my eyes burn when I think of him hating me as he leaves tonight. "I'm sorry." I don't know why I'm apologizing when, again, he's the one who held a gun to my face and demanded I open the register. But I don't want this to end here, right when it felt like a light had appeared at the end of the tunnel after all these years.

Lester doesn't look at me as he opens the car door. "It's fine," he says. "At least I'm not going to jail tonight. That's what matters." He slams it closed behind him and starts up the engine. The car sputters angrily.

"Come on." I lean in the open window so he can't pull away just yet. "You're acting like nothing happened."

"Nothing did happen, did it?" he asks, and those reptilian eyes focus on mine. They are hard and unyielding. "It was no big deal."

"No big deal?" It felt like a big deal—to me, at least.

"Right." He waves me off. "Now can I go, please? We've been dealing with the cops for an hour now and I want to crash."

So that's it. The light in the tunnel winks out as I withdraw from the window. Lester starts rolling it up.

"If you change your mind," I say, "you know where to find me."

The window pauses for a second. Then, with a resigned sigh, he closes it the rest of the way, and the car pulls out.

I didn't know him at all, but it still feels like someone sliced my heart in half.

Luckily, my boss doesn't find out about me calling the cops, or about the customers who might have gone in and swiped whatever they wanted while I was out gallivanting through the woods. Not that it makes working there any better.

At least now I have something I want, something that drives me in my off time. I do a little research online, and then build a forum called "Dating for the Affected," where I hope people like Lester can go to find some romance in their lives. I create a profile for myself, of course, and make the very first post on the website: "Looking for a reptile to show me a good time."

It takes a few weeks for anyone to find the site, but once they do, word starts to spread quickly. I get a few messages—one from a girl who merged with her pet iguana, another from a guy who was at a zoo when the asteroid hit and became half-komodo dragon. I go out with both of them, but there's no spark at all and the dates end without exchanging phone numbers.

Within two months, an influencer Affected who merged with a chimpanzee posts to TikTok about the message board, and suddenly it's swarmed. Affecteds from all over the world start to post, and it isn't long before they're finding matches. The site gets overloaded as word spreads and the domain host starts demanding I pay more money to host the surge of traffic—which of course, I can't afford. A few regular users make donations to help cover it, and for a while, the site continues on.

That's when someone makes the app. They use the same name as my forum, and almost immediately, my traffic drops off to nothing. No one needs the message board anymore. Reluctantly I close the website, and once again the tunnel stops at a dead-end. The one thing I tried to do to make myself forget about Lester, and still I can't get him out of my mind.

I hope he's okay, and that he's found a way around robbing convenience stores to crawl out of whatever hole he'd dug for himself. After resisting and resisting, I finally download the app to my phone and create an account. I'm not sure what I'm expecting to get out of it—maybe I'm just curious. Maybe I want to find my perfect match.

Maybe I'm hoping to come across Lester.

Every day I check for new possible matches, but still no sign of him. Then one afternoon, I'm late for my shift at the gas station, and that's it for me. I'm toast.

Time to find a new job, again.

The iguana girl I'd met through the forum matches with me on the app, and we agree to meet up a second time as friends. She's a waitress at a nearby Olive Garden that happens to be in desperate need of a host. With her recommendation I slide right through the hiring process. Maybe the wages are shit, but at least they're wages, and I'll survive until I make my next mistake.

One Friday evening—the worst night of the week to be hostessing—a familiar man with yellow eyes and greenish scales walks in. There's a human woman on his arm, clutching it close and talking quickly in his ear as they come inside. I can hear the app name slide off her tongue. That must be how they met.

Lester's eyes connect with mine immediately and his jaw slackens. I do my best to summon up my hostess smile in spite of the heavy stone in my belly.

"There's a little bit of a wait tonight," I say. "About twenty-five minutes."

The woman huffs. "Huh? What are we supposed to do for half an hour?"

"You're welcome to sit at the bar if there's room," I offer.

She just huffs again. "C'mon, Lester. Let's go somewhere else where they're willing to give us a table."

But Lester is quiet, still focused on me. Then he shakes his head like he's trying to remember where he is and what he's doing. "We should just wait," he tells her. "It's not that long."

I have to admit that he looks good. Great, even. He's wearing a black leather jacket to go with his spiked collar, and the shadowy grooves under his eyes are gone.

The woman tugs his arm. "Let's go. I didn't even want to come to Olive Garden."

"But the breadsticks..." Lester begins.

"I don't care about the breadsticks. I can't even eat bread."

He rolls his eyes. "You can, you just choose not to."

The woman throws her arms up in frustration, then turns and heads out the door. Lester doesn't follow. Instead he turns back to me, and his eyes traverse me from head to toe in a way that distinctly reminds me of our moment in the ravine together.

"Hey," I say, my voice trembling a little. How has he made me this nervous?

"Hey," he responds. "I, uh, didn't think I would see you again." He seems less angry than I expected after the last time, when he put his whole foot down on the gas pedal and sped out of the parking lot.

"Yeah. Same." Surreptitiously I pick up a menu. "Don't you want to go after your date? She's leaving."

He gives a disaffected shrug. "She was sort of a hassle."

I find myself fiddling with the menu. "Oh. Okay. Well, if you want to stay, I think there is one seat at the bar."

His tail swishes behind him, and I wish I knew what that meant. Lester's reptilian face doesn't really give anything away.

"All right." He tilts his head at me as I pass him the menu. "When do you get off, Remy?"

Just the sound of my name on his lips sends a shudder through me. He remembered. Immediately I'm back in the ravine, sharing that kiss, feeling the way it lit up every nerve ending under my skin.

"Oh, um..." I trail off, because I'm not sure if I should tell him. That might be inviting him in, when I'm not sure I want to. "They send me home around ten."

Lester's lips peel back in a smile, revealing his long teeth. That familiar pink tongue emerges and he licks one of his fangs. "I'll wait," he says. "Find me later."

And with that he takes the menu and walks off to the other side of the restaurant, making a spot for himself at the bar. My mouth opens and closes a few times, not sure what's just happened or what he intends by it. It's a little presumptuous of him, after the way he treated me, to think I want to see him after work. The last thing I want is to be his second choice after his lame date dropped him.

Yet the rest of my shift drags by, bogged down by anticipation. I catch a glimpse of Lester's back whenever I leave the hostessing station. It's big and wide as he sits hunched over the bar with a drink in his hand. He's even cut neat holes down the back of his jacket for each of his ridges.

Finally, the clock hits ten and we lock up the doors. One of the waitresses tries to shoo Lester out for the night, but I quickly interrupt to explain that he's there for me. She glances between us with one eyebrow raised, then shrugs and walks off. I think that new app has already starting changing people's view of the Affected as potential romantic matches.

Lester stands up. I forgot just how tall he is. His fingers dance across my lower back as he nods towards the door.

"Could I take you out for a drink?" he asks. "There's a good place that's open late down the block."

I survey him carefully. So he's just going to go on another date after his first one of the night fell through? That doesn't make me feel great.

The best I can do is answer honestly. "I don't know, man. You might have lost your chance." I've had the opportunity in the time that's lapsed to feel that he was a little unjust towards me.

Lester's face falters. He was excited about this. He had to have been, I suppose, to sit around waiting for me for the last few hours.

"Oh." The word is bitten off. "Yeah. That would make sense." He clenches his hands into fists and looks down at them like it's easier than looking into my face. "Guess I fucked up that night."

He couldn't have guessed that it made me feel disposable? Then again, he was in the middle of robbing a convenience store for a little extra cash just so he could get out of debt. It's not like he was in the best frame of mind.

"Can I at least buy you a drink to apologize?" he asks hopefully. "I owe you one. Or two. I would have been screwed that night if you hadn't lied to the cops for me."

He's right—he would have. To see it in that light now infuriates me more.

"Fine. But two drinks, your tab, and then I'm going home." As I turn to leave, Lester quickly jogs ahead so he can open it for me in a sad attempt at chivalry.

We make our way to the bar down the block in silence. Lester digs his hands deep into his pockets. He glances at me a few times, but when he sees I'm not interested in talking, he looks back down at the ground.

"Damn," he says after we've gotten our drinks and sat down. "I didn't realize I made you that mad."

And hurt, I think. I'm more hurt than I am mad.

"That sounds so shitty," I say, taking a big sip of my drink. "Like it's my fault that I'm angry and not yours. You were the one who zoomed out of there like you were on fire after kissing me better than anyone's kissed me in my life."

He perks up, and a dumb smile races across his face. "I did?"

I set my jaw. "Don't sound so proud of yourself. That's just what made it really mean when you bounced."

"Right." He chases an ice cube with his straw. "I'm sorry. It wasn't great of me to take off like that and pretend nothing happened."

So now he's caught up.

"Yup," I say.

We fall quiet again. I finish up my drink, and Lester leaves to get us each another one. This clearly isn't going how he'd hoped.

After another pregnant silence he says, "I guess I thought you liked me."

"I did."

He chews on his lip and I wonder if he ever cuts himself with his teeth by accident. "Right."

"We barely know each other," I say. "Like you said back then, it's not that big of a deal." It was for me, though. I think about that kiss every single night. Sometimes I drop my hand down between my thighs remembering it, and pull my toys out of my bedside table remembering it.

Lester leans in a little, curiously searching my face. "I don't think that's true."

If he knows I've done nothing but think about him since then, that gives him leverage, and I don't need anyone else to have leverage over me.

"It certainly seems like it wasn't a big deal for you," I say. "I worked at that gas station for another five months. You could have come back any time."

"To the scene of my crime?" he asks. "No way."

"And then you got on that dating app, apparently."

A sharp gust of air bursts from his nostrils. "Yeah. I did. I was looking for you."

I want to believe this is true. "Then how come we never matched?" I ask. I had clearly put in my profile that I was into reptiles.

That's when I realize: He's no reptile. He's a dinosaur.

It's like Lester can read the look right off my face. He stifles a chuckle behind one clawed hand. "You didn't."

I've been barking up the wrong tree for weeks. I groan. "My preferences probably filtered you out!" God, I'm such an idiot, and this whole time I've been mad at him.

But he doesn't look upset—in fact, he's leaning forward on the table toward me, eyes twinkling. "Can we start over? Could we pretend this is date number one?"

"I guess we could," I say. Lester doesn't seem like he's going to let me get away without a fight, but if he wants me, he's going to have to get on his knees and beg.

"Great," he says, relieved. "That would be great."

It's actually a fun date. Lester introduces himself to me as if for the first time, and it's so charming that I giggle like a kid. I wish I was wearing anything besides a dress shirt and slacks.

"I promise I don't dress so square all the time," I say. "Just at work."

"Now I'm curious what you wear the rest of the time." He leans his long head on one hand. "Hopefully you'll let me take you out again to see it."

Of course that's what I want, but I shouldn't seem too eager. "All right. I'll allow it."

He grins. "Good."

We talk about our childhoods, our likes and dislikes, and the endless breadsticks at Olive Garden. He tells me a little about his former job but skips over the part in the middle where he was robbing convenience stores for emergency cash. Now he's working at Home Depot, moving lumber and helping customers find what they're looking for. I'm not surprised. He has the build for it. "It's that time of year when everybody is building garden boxes out front," he says.

I remember a time when I'd dreamed about owning my own place, having a yard, and growing some food in it. That feels impossible now.

"Are you okay?" he asks, leaning towards me. "Do you need another drink?"

I'm already feeling a little tipsy, so I shake my head. "No. Just thinking how I keep ending up in these dead-end jobs. It's not really how I imagined my life."

Lester nods in understanding. "This isn't really how I pictured my life turning out, either."

"You had a good job before. Can't you get back into archaeology now that you're sober?"

He just sighs wistfully and finishes off his drink. "They won't take me back. I'm stuck here now. At best maybe I could get a job as a museum tour guide."

I try to return some levity to the conversation. "You would have the inside scoop on dinosaurs."

This earns me a little smile. "That's true."

He pays the tab, then returns and offers me an elbow. I happily take it, and when we leave the bar, I'm relieved to breathe in some fresh air.

Lester steps to one side and pulls me along with him, and then before I know it, I'm in his arms again. He's looking down at me over the long ridge of his snout, nostrils flaring. "One thing about being me," he says, "is I can smell so much better now. And I'm glad for that because you smell great."

I blink. "Really? But I've been sweating at work all day."

"Exactly." He lowers his head so our mouths are only a few inches apart. "I like it. They say that's how you know when you're compatible with someone—you like the smell of their sweat."

I have to laugh. He's charming when he wants to be. "I've never had anyone say they like how my sweat smells."

"First time for everything."

I find myself staring at his lips again, wondering how they would feel this time.

"I'd really like to kiss you," he says, and then his voice drops lower. "Again."

We might have been pretending this was a first date, but maybe not anymore now that we're wrapped up together against the wall of the bar.

"Okay," I say, tamping down the excitement in my voice. "I'd like that."

It's just as good this time, if not better. His mouth is firmer, hungrier, and his long tongue plays lovely games with mine inside my mouth. He even gently runs the tip of his teeth over my lip, and a little groan escapes him.

"God, you are a great kisser," he says once we finally pull apart. He licks his chops. "I could do this all night."

I find that I'm not opposed to that idea. "I could, too." The bar door opens and a few drunk girls stumble out together, giggling as their Uber pulls up. "But maybe we should go somewhere a little more private?"

A flash of mischief crosses Lester's face. "What do you have in mind?"

I'm not sure what his place is like, but mine is a dingy little basement room in a big shared house. Taking him back there feels pathetic. "Your place, maybe?"

"I'm down with that, but we'll have to be quiet. My roommate works early."

Immediately I start thinking about what sort of things we could do that would require me to be quiet, and my stomach somersaults. The warm place between my thighs tightens just imagining it.

"Okay. I... I can be quiet."

His lips lift on one side, and he nods down the street. "I'm that way. We can walk there, if you want. It's about a quarter mile."

The words of agreement get stuck in my throat, so instead I just nod. Lester takes my hand in his as we start down the sidewalk, his claws curling around my knuckles, and something about it feels safe and warm.

His apartment is up on the second floor of a big brick building. It's nothing fancy, and the railings on the stairs are falling apart. Maybe I didn't need to feel so ashamed of my place when we're both just making a life where we can. There's something comforting about his struggle to open the door, twisting the knob one way and the other before it finally opens.

"Can't get the landlord to fix anything," he grumbles.

He leads me inside and almost immediately we're on the couch, lips locked together. He gently pushes me down, and brackets my head between his arms so he doesn't crush me. Now I can feel his hips against mine, and there's a definitive lump in his jeans that's pressing insistently against my thigh.

So I turn him on, do I? The idea fills me up with a warm longing, a need for more than just fervent kisses. Boldly I rub my pelvis against his, and Lester groans into my mouth.

"Oh?" He returns the gesture, and that tantalizing shape inside his pants rubs up and down between my legs. "You like that, do you?"

"Do you?" I shoot back. He chuckles and leaves my mouth to kiss my throat.

"I've been thinking about you ever since that night." His sultry tone makes me think that perhaps he's been imagining me the same way I've been imagining him. He grazes his fangs over my skin and I gasp in response.

"Yeah," I whisper. "I've been thinking about it, too."

It's been ages since I've been intimate with anyone. I haven't felt the rush, the need, or the desire like I do now. I want to know what's underneath Lester's leather jacket and tight jeans. Is he scaly all over? And what does it look like?

"Can we...?" I clear my throat awkwardly. "Does everything, um, work?"

He blinks in confusion a few times before it dawns on him what I'm asking. This time when he smiles, he bares his sharp teeth.

"Do you want to find out?"

I have to stop myself from nodding furiously, because all I want is to keep feeling him on top of me but without clothing between us. Instead I say, "Yeah. I do."

With surprising haste, Lester hops up from the couch and offers his hand. I let him lead me down the hall to his room, which is small but covered to the gills in décor. There are band posters for punk bands everywhere, spreads of superheroes in action, and even a pair of what look like antique daggers hung up over his desk. His closet is open and all of his clothes are some variation of black.

"Sorry it's a little messy," he says, quickly wiping dirty laundry off the bed, but I feel comfortable here. It reminds me of my own room with the bed perpetually unmade and doing double-duty as a hamper.

"Please, don't worry." I sit down on the edge, running my hand over the quilt. It's nice, and looks homemade. "My room isn't much better."

Lester is a little stiff as he settles down next to me on the bed. He's nervous, which I find sweet. This time I make the first move, turning towards him so I can run a hand down his chest. I stop at his abdomen, where a heavy black belt with studs stands between me and his steadily growing hard-on. I glance up at him, looking for permission, and he gives me a nod of encouragement. His nostrils are flared, yellow eyes fixated on my face.

The first thing I note when I tease my fingers over his groin is just how big he is under there, and again my lower half clenches in anticipation. Suddenly I want to hurry through all this foreplay stuff. What if he just pushed me down on the bed and shoved himself inside me?

But no, this is our first time. I should take it slow.

As I caress the length under his pants, Lester's breathing speeds up. His cool hands find their way under my shirt, and the crispness of his claws brushing over my skin makes me gasp. Already I'm longing to get us both naked, to skip over all this boring undressing stuff. I've undressed him in my mind enough times.

"Lester." His eyes drop down to my mouth as I say his name, and again he licks his lips. "Will you take my clothes off?"

"Oh, god." The exclamation is breathed out as one word. "Yes, please."

His slow exploration of my belly becomes a hurried swoop to pull off my shirt. I know I have decent-sized boobs, but the look that comes over him when he sees them is better than I could've expected. His grin goes up high on both sides of his snout, and his nostrils flare even wider. He reaches around behind me to take off my bra, then a frown takes over as he struggles with the catch.

"Damn it," he growls. "Stupid claws."

"I like them." I take over for him, pulling the band apart so it falls loose over my chest. With one finger he slides the strap down my arm, and he shows even more of his teeth as I'm exposed to him. My nipples are already so hard that they ache.

Leaning forward, he cradles each of my breasts in his hand, one after the other. While he touches me, scraping his claws over my nipples, he drags his lips down my throat to my collar. I whimper underneath him, and he chuckles.

"I've barely touched you and you're already reeking of sex," he says. "It's so hot, Remy."

It's beyond embarrassing that he can smell that, but it doesn't seem to bother him, so I melt into his touch. He lifts my breast and takes my nipple between his lips, gently running that tantalizing tongue over it until I'm gasping.

"Lester," I manage out. "Will you take yours off, too?"

He makes one last pass with his mouth and then leans back, shrugging off his jacket first, then peeling up his shirt. Scales cover his toned body, and he has no nipples to speak of—which makes sense, I suppose.

This time when he slides his arm around my back, it's to lie me back on his bed. He hovers over me, his huge tail thrashing back and forth.

"God, you're so hot." He runs his hands down my belly, his claws igniting beads of pleasure along the way. He undoes the button of my slacks and grabs onto the hem, and I lift my butt so he can pull them off. He takes the band of my underwear with them so suddenly I'm exposed. His hands continue down my hips, over my thighs, all the way to my knees. A slick of drool has pooled under his fangs. "I can't wait to lick you up."

At this idea my whole body shivers, and that slow heat bursts into a frantic flame. It's his hand that ventures there first, and the moment his cool claw brushes over my clit, I let out a moan. Chuckling, he leans down to kiss me, hard.

"Remember," he whispers against me, "quiet."

"Right." I try to keep this at the forefront of my mind as he makes a second pass over my clit, earning another muffled moan, then drags his finger downward to the wet slit waiting for him there. He curls his finger and nuzzles it with his knuckle, and he lets out a groan of his own.

"You're so wet, my god." Lester's breathing quickens as he tests me, bringing that wetness up through my swollen folds.

Then he ducks his head down and before I can speak, he has his huge mouth between my legs. I cover my face to hold in another moan as finally that wonderful, delicious tongue comes out. Soon I'm writhing underneath him as it torments my clit and then sweeps down to lick up all the juices that have gathered beneath it.

My hips buck as that tongue slips inside me, and even from behind my hand I can't stop the noise that comes out. He fucks me with his mouth hard, then returns to my clit, again and again. I've never felt anything like it. Bright lights shoot off in my vision as he licks and sucks and flicks.

"Fuck," I whisper. "I'm going to come."

"Good." His pace speeds up and soon I'm clenching one of his ridges in my hands, trying to swallow my cries as I careen into oblivion. No vibrator could imitate that.

When he's finished between my legs and I'm lying there like a limp toy, he unbuckles his belt and tosses it to the side. The button of his jeans comes next, and then the zipper. Oh, I finally get to see it—and, if all continues to go well, feel it.

Underneath he's wearing black boxers covered in skulls, and now his huge cock can finally breathe. It tents the boxers, trying to slide through the slit at the front. I'm too impatient. I duck my fingers into the hem of the boxers and pull them down, allowing the tent pole underneath to spring free.

"Oh my god." I can't help the exclamation. Lester suddenly recoils from me, squeezing his legs together.

"What?" he asks, defensive. "What is it?"

Not only is he huge, but it looks like nothing I've ever seen before, emerging from a long opening at his groin. The same ridges that run along his eyebrows and neck also decorate his cock, and it has soft, perfectly smooth scales covering it all the way to the head. Underneath I can see skin, and a bead of pre-come coats the slit at the very tip.

"It's awesome," I say, not really thinking twice about my words before they come out. I sit up so I can reach towards him, and though he tenses up, Lester doesn't move away. I'm gentle with my fingers, testing the heft of him, and he stifles a grunt as I wrap my whole hand around it.

Briefly, I wonder if he'll actually fit inside of me, and this sends a cascade of anticipation directly into my pussy. I can't wait to find out.

"You... like it?" Lester asks, voice full of shame and uncertainty.

"Oh, I do." I squeeze gently as I drag my hands up and then down again. He clenches the sheets in his claws. "Very much."

His relief comes out as a long exhale. "I know it's weird and everything—"

"So?" I pump my hands again and he shudders. "It's you." I pull the scaly skin down this time, admiring the pinkish head that slides out from underneath it. I drop down to my hands and knees, and Lester gasps with surprise before I even touch his crown with my tongue.

"Fuck," he hisses, a hand tangling in my hair as I gently take it into my mouth. "That's incredible."

I've barely gotten started. Realizing that I'm probably the first person he's been with since he became an Affected, I decide to pay close attention to his pleasure, to make him feel desired and accepted. I swallow him up and his hips buck into my mouth, nearly gagging me. My lips can barely stretch wide enough to fit. I continue to pump him in time with my hands and soon he's fallen back on his elbows, muscled belly flexing and arching with each of my thrusts.

"Remy," he grunts. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come in your mouth."

I pause my assault on his beautiful cock. "Do you want that?"

After a few deep breaths he says, "I'd much rather do it inside you."

Oh. A boiling wave of desire rolls through me at the thought. "Can... can you, like, get me...?" It's too awkward to say the whole thing out loud.

Lester gets a rueful look on his face. "No. We're sterile. Just another side-effect." But it transforms into a wicked grin, and he sits up so he's towering over me. "Which means I can fill you up all I want."

Suddenly I'm flat on my back and he's pinning my wrists down to the bed. Lester's reptilian pupils are dilated and heavy with need as he licks his teeth. I have to have more, so I arch my back to run my pelvis over his beautifully swollen cock, showing him what I want. He tsks.

"So eager and naughty." Releasing one of my wrists, he reaches down to press his length down between my legs. There's a burst of sensation right where the soft head of him makes contact with my clit, and I bite my lip to keep from making a sound. "That's right," he whispers, his fangs settling by my ear. "Stay quiet while I make you mine."

It's so predatory, so primal that my lower half draws in tight, imagining his phantom cock filling me up. I wonder how much the melding has changed how his brain works, if fucking me is an animalistic urge as much as a human one.

"Yes," I whisper back. "I'll be quiet."

I'm so slick when he brings himself down between my soft, swollen lips that he slides easily between them, just dragging those scales over my clit until I'm practically begging him with the snap of my hips to dive down further. His other claw doesn't release my wrist as he finally nudges at me, willing my small slit to open for him. When I gasp, it does, and he seizes this opening to press inside.

"Oh!" I can't hold it in as he's finally there, right where I want him, finally making me open up. With surprising self-control Lester pauses, then starts to drag his cock around in a gentle circle, encouraging my tight, wet channel to relax for him. I can tell all he wants is to fuck me now, fast and hard, but he's not going to rush into it. I admire his discipline.

But I want more. I need more. Every muscle is flexing, trying to draw him in, hoping to complete this mission we've started. Somewhere deep down is an empty pool that needs filling, and only he can deliver it.

"More," I say. "More, please." With each movement the ridges on his cock stimulate something new, something even more sensitive than before. Lester curls his arms around my head, brings his fangs down to my throat, and obliges.

The explosion of sound and color when he thrusts all the way in overwhelms me. I press my mouth to his shoulder to hold in my moans. He's there, right where I need him, and it's far beyond anything I could have dreamed up in my fantasies.

"Damn," Lester says, sitting back so he can admire our bodies where they're joining together, his cock spreading my lower lips wide. "You feel so fucking good, I can't believe it." He remains like that, gripping my thighs in his claws, as he begins to stroke.

"Oh, god." I fall back down to the bed, lost to the feel of him, the breadth of him, the fulfillment of him. His claws rove over my belly, my breasts, my nipples as he continues his slow conquest, remaining deep and thick and delicious. It's only once I'm dripping wet and my back is arched to the sky that he starts to draw himself out, so only the tip anchors us together, and then plunges back in. I bite down hard on my lip to keep a cry from coming out, and Lester lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle.

"Good girl," he says, petting my hair with one hand while the other keeps my arm pinned. But now that he's given me some I want more and more. Those sweet, perfect ridges and the soft, textured scales—I'm already so close to the edge that I wonder if I'll live through this.

"Lester," I whimper, lifting my hips so I can take him even further in, welcoming him inside me.

"Do you want more, beautiful?" he asks, lifting me up by my rump. The angle changes and I can't help the cry that bursts out of me as he thrusts again, hard. The cheap bed frame squeaks with each stroke, bumping the wall with each tremor that travels through our connected bodies. He offers me his hand and I bite down on it as he begins pumping with a powerful vigor. I've never been so turned on in my life, like his cock is on a waterslide, those luscious ridges thrumming inside my body as he shoves himself into the depths. I'm lost to the avalanche of sensation striking at my neck and spreading throughout my body with the beat of my blood.

"Oh, fuck," I moan into his hand. My climax hovers just on the edge of my vision, dancing closer as Lester plunders me with his gorgeous, strange, wonderful cock. He leans down close, and the edges of his sharp teeth drag down my throat as his tongue caresses my skin.

"I'm going to fill you up," he growls, panting against my ear. "Are you ready, Remy?"

I'm so close that I worry I might just combust. I frantically nod, and Lester grunts with satisfaction. His arms wind tight around my body to pull me flush against his, and this is perhaps the closest I've ever felt to another person. His claws clench my ass and his fangs graze my ear. The room is awash with the scent of our sweat, our sex, our heavy breathing.

I'm rising, drifting higher and higher until I'm so tight that each thrust squelches, his cock dragging against my clenching inner walls. I bury my face in Lester's neck, holding onto him with every ounce of my strength because otherwise, the agonizing pleasure he's doling out to me like Christmas presents might simply sweep me away into space.

"Yes," he murmurs into my ear, raspy and animalistic. "Yes, sweetheart."

When it hits me every last muscle in my body goes wire-tight, as if it's desperately trying to hold itself together. Lester groans against my throat, whispering my name over and over. I'm cascading and soon he's coming along with me, pounding me with a force like nothing I've felt before. Then he bursts, his hot flood filling me up so full it starts to drip out around him.

Lester collapses on top of me, barely holding himself up with one elbow. His bright yellow eyes are half-closed as he nuzzles my forehead with his snout, pressing one kiss after another to my brow, my cheek, my nose, my mouth. The way he slips one arm under my head and brings me close to his neck, I wonder if something new and tender has begun between us.

Somebody bangs on the wall, followed by a loud grumble of annoyance.

"So much for being quiet," Lester says with a chuckle. The ring in his nostril tickles my face. "But I liked hearing you moan."

"I liked everything," I say.

He takes a deep whiff of me, then sighs. "I never thought I'd come across someone like you."

I have to admit I feel the same way, for very different reasons. He felt that being Affected made him unlovable, while I believed being a loser did the same for me. But maybe neither of us are what we think we are. Maybe we just needed to find each other.

Eventually he has to withdraw, and I'm shocked by the gush of come that leaks out of me. But Lester grabs a box of tissues from his bedside table and mops me up, then pulls me into his hot-blooded embrace. He yawns against my hair, and a little of it gets caught in his teeth.

"Oops." He plucks it out. "Guess I'm going to have to figure out being around a girl like this."

I sigh and sink into him. "You don't need to do anything. You're perfect."

As we fall asleep like that, I feel as if life has taken a sudden left turn. My trajectory has changed, and I may never be the same.