5. Van

5

VAN

When I wake once more, Gabe paces at the foot of the bed. He’s on the phone with someone, but he’s so quiet I can’t hear him.

“Gotta go, I think he’s awake again.” Gabe shoves his phone in his pocket and rushes to my side. “Are you okay?” His eyes roam over my face and I want to reassure him.

I wave off his concern. “I’m fine.”

“You were out for a day and a half.”

“That long?” I swallow. That’s not good.

“Yes. And you kept bleeding for a while.”

It’s now I notice towels bunched at my sides to catch said blood from the countdown device. “Sorry. I’ll be fine, no doubt. But it occurs to me I don’t have more clothes with me.” I push to sit, but he presses a hand to my shoulder to keep me down.

“Stay put. You’re still wounded.”

I frown, even though I like his commanding energy. “I think you’ve nursed me pretty well. I should be good to take a shower and put on fresh clothes, but this is all I have to wear.”

He nibbles his bottom lip and dabs at my chest with a damp cloth. “Okay. I’ll let you go, but the instant you feel bad, you’re laying down again.”

“Thank you.” I push to the edge of the bed, thankful that this time my head doesn’t swim.

Gabe watches me before he rushes to the small dresser across from the bed. “I have some clothes that should fit you until we get you more. Wren said he’d stop by your place in the demon realm and bring some over in the next few days.”

“Wren? I didn’t know you knew Lark’s brother so well.” I eye Gabe up and down. “And there’s no way anything of yours is going to fit me.”

“Wren and I are friends. He pops into Flutter and Fangs every few weeks. And the clothes aren’t mine. They were my dad’s. I couldn’t bear to get rid of them.” A shadow of sadness crosses over his face as he pulls a pair of navy blue sweatpants from the drawer.

“He must have been a lumberjack,” I say as I take the soft pants he hands me. My heart aches for his loss.

“Military. If you’re really ready, you can go shower, then we’ll discuss plans and rules and all that fun stuff. But only if you’re up to it. I don’t want to exhaust you.”

“Yes, sir.” I salute just to be silly and hopefully lift his spirits.

“Oh, I like that.” He gives me another wink and leaves me to stare at his retreating form. I have a feeling Gabe has lots of lovely little surprises to uncover.

Gabe

While Van’s in the shower, I water the rest of my plants. I’m half afraid I’ll forget in the morning, so I opt for now.

“Alright, little guys, do your thing.” I lift my watering can to the violets in the white plastic gazebo I inherited from my grandmother. She’s the reason I love plants so much. They make me feel like I matter, like I have something to take care of.

“Do you always talk to your plants?” The waistband of the sweatpants ride low on Van’s sculpted hips, and it takes everything in me not to drool. Holy hell. He waves a hand in front of my face and I blink up at him.

“Sorry. Should have grabbed you a shirt, too.” I shake my head and rush to my bedroom to grab one of dad’s old t-shirts. Van’s smirking at me when I hand it over without making eye contact. “There’s been studies that plants thrive when you speak to them nicely. I’m always nice to my babies. They deserve the best soil, water, and whatever I can give them.”

“I bet they all have names, too.” Van side-eyes my hoya hanging in the corner by the window right before sliding the t-shirt on.

“Absolutely! And they all have personalities and?—”

Van cocks a brow as he takes another step towards the kitchen table. “Plants do not have personalities.”

“They do. Betty—” I wave to the hoya.

“Betty?!” Van snorts as he rubs a finger across Betty’s waxy leaves. “Betty?”

“Yes. Betty. She loves the sun and gets all sad when she doesn’t have as much as possible. When it’s outcast outside, she’s droopy droopy.”

“Isn’t that how plants work?”

“I mean… yes, but take Trevor, for example?—”

“Trevor? Are they all human names?” Van laughs as he continues to rub Betty’s leaves.

“Yes,” I mumble. “Maybe you are an asshole.” I cross my arms, not exactly meaning it. This is the usual reaction I get to my plant babies when I start talking about them.

“I’m definitely an asshole.” Van swipes his hands through his wet hair and squeezes. “Do I even enough time to change my ways? What if I can’t?”

“I think just the fact that you’re questioning if you can make it means you’re already trying to.” I want to reach out and squeeze his hand, but I don’t know how he feels about being touched and keep my hands to myself.

His mouth opens and closes. “Maybe.”

“And honestly, I don’t know that you’re really an asshole. Selfish, maybe ? I don’t know you. All I’ve heard are stories by your friends and enemies.”

“I have enemies?” Van snorts as he slides a chair from the table to sit. “I mean, of course I do. I’m me, it’d be stranger if I didn’t have enemies.”

I join him at the table and scoot in. “What I’m saying is all I’ve heard are stories from other people. So… prove them all wrong.”

Another snort. “But more than likely, they’re all true.”

“Then make a new story, Van. Rewrite your life. This is a new start. Take the offering and run with it.”

“You sound like those hashtag manifesting people.”

“It’s nothing like that. You can set a new course for your life and maybe it’s better than what you have now.” I would know, but I’m not ready to tell him my whole life story. At least not yet.

“Aw, but right now, I got the nicest view in Hex.” Van winks and blows me a kiss. I fight off a grin because his pickup lines are so cringe, but I always fall for shit like that.

“Let’s get down to the rules. I’m not strict, but we’re both adults and I expect you to respect this place.” And my plant babies, but I keep that to myself. He probably already thinks I’m weird about them.

Van nods and gives me a one shoulder shrug. “I’ve always done my best to keep my place clean. Shouldn’t be hard.”

“Exactly. Around here we do not put things down, we put them away. Dishes don’t stay dirty in the sink.” I wave behind me. “They get washed, then stay in the drainer until I need them again.”

A half grin tugs at Van’s lips. “Noted. Though putting them in the cabinet might give you more space.”

“Some days I get them into the cabinet.” I chew my bottom lip and decide to just get out with it. “I’ve had to figure out my ADHD over the years. As long as I’m blasting music in my ears, I can get through any of my chores. But dishes and dusting. I’d rather step on Legos. So as long as I can get the dirty dishes clean and into the drainer, I’m good.”

“And I’m guessing dusting just gets forgotten?” Van asks as he looks around, no doubt inspecting my already ridiculously dusty floorboards. “Unless it’s your plant babies because Betty doesn’t have a speck of dust on her.”

“Not forgotten, per se. I always remember. But I choose to do other things, then feel guilty about it.”

“Sounds like a shitty cycle.”

I drop my head back. “It is. I’m so exhausted by the idea of dusting that I just don’t.”

“I’ll do it.” Van scratches his jaw. “I’ll pick up weekly dusting and a few other chores, since you’re sweet enough to let me stay for the cost of food.”

“Perfect. I have my chore chart on the fridge.” This is going way easier than I anticipated. But I hadn’t known what to expect when I offered the demon my apartment.

Van gets up to examine the chart and as he does, he swipes his finger over the top of the fridge and shows it to me. We both wince.

I drop my head to my hands. “That’s so gross.”

Van washes his hands and his tail wraps around his waist. I’m always fascinated by the tails of demons that come into Flutter and Fangs. They’re always so expressive, as if they have a mind of their own.

“Personal question,” I start.

“Only if I get to ask one, too.” Van leans against the counter and watches me.

“That’s fair.”

“Then shoot.” He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for me.

“What does your tail feel like? Do you know when it’s moving? Is that your influence or?—”

“That’s three questions, angel.” His tail unwraps from around him and, like a cobra, strikes towards me.

“Then you can ask me three, of course.” I lift a hand and with my eyes silently ask if I can touch him. Thankfully, Van gets my meaning, and he tips his head.

“Yes, I know when it’s moving and, for the most part it is me directing it. But sometimes, I don’t know, sometimes it just does its own thing and I stop it when I realize.”

I brush my fingers over the barbed parts. They’re more like bumps though now that I see his tail up close. “Oh! It’s soft.”

“Mmm hmmm,” he purrs. “And sensitive. It’s an erogenous zone, just like my horns.”

My eyes flick up to his horns, and my hands itch to test him, but I refrain.

“My tail usually has a glamor over it to look properly barbed, but Poe stripped me of my magic. So here’s my tail in all its boring glory.”

“Why’d you want a barbed tail?” I ask.

“Why not?” He shrugs and his tail slithers around my hands. “It keeps people from touching my tail if they think there are barbs that’ll hurt them.”

“You don’t want your tail touched?” I stop my caresses.

“Not without my permission, no. It’s like someone stroking my cock.”

My face heats thinking of all the times someone has reached out to touch one of the demon’s tails at Flutter and Fangs. Not me, I kept those inside desires inside and I’m glad I have.

Van tips my chin to look him in the eye. “What is going on in that pretty head of yours? You’re too cute to scrunch your face like that.”

I snort and I pull my hands from his tail. “Nothing. Let’s finish the talk, because I have a few more things to discuss.”

“By all means, continue.” Van waves toward me as he settles back into the seat across the table, taking his tail with him.

“No loud parties and no pets. Both are part of my lease agreement.”

“Doable.” Van nods as he steeples his fingers and leans in.

“And… please don’t bring sexual partners over until we figure out an arrangement.”

A sly grin falls over Van’s face. “No problem. Now, I think you owe me three answers, and sex is a topic I love very much.”

“I have nothing to hide.” But I pick at the edge of my table, hoping he doesn’t ask anything super embarrassing.

He lifts a hand and holds up his pointer finger. “Are you part of the Rainbow brigade? I’m very gay.” Adds his middle finger. “If so, what’s your preference? Me?” He presses his other hand to his chest. “I’m verse.” And the ring finger joins when he asks, “Have you ever been to an orgy? My favorite pastime.”

It takes a moment for my brain to process that last question. “No orgies.” I lick my lips and have to suppress a shiver when he gives me a little fake pout. “Bisexual. I lean closer to wanting guys as partners, but I’m attracted to everyone, apparently. And holy crap are there attractive people in Hex. And I’m an exclusive top.”

“What?!” His hand flies to his chest and I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if it’s theatrics.

“What do you mean what? What part requires that kind of reaction?” Surely it’s not about me being bi?

“Exclusive top? Who’s an exclusive anything these days?”

My mouth opens and closes a couple of times and I can’t decide what to say, so I clamp it shut.

“How do you not enjoy the delights of an anal orgasm? I like it more than topping most days.”

“I’ve never had the delights of an anal orgasm,” I mumble.

“You’ve never bottomed?” His mouth drops open.

“That’s not what I said. I’ve never?—”

His eyes flash with something I can’t catch, and his face goes stormy. “Someone hurt you, didn’t they?”

“Let’s move on.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad to be an exclusive top. Just think you’re missing out is all. Perhaps I can show you what it’s like when your partner wants you to get off, too.”

“I didn’t say I was interested.” But I am. Especially if it’s this sexy demon offering to teach me.

“That’s fine. You gotta get used to the idea.” He winks and pushes back to his feet.

My mouth goes dry. It’s not that I never want to bottom again, I just haven’t trusted anyone since those first few times. I’ve always been interested in bottoming with someone that knows what they’re doing and not some bumbling teenager taking what they can get.

Despite implying I have regular hook ups, I don’t actually sleep around. I like being exclusive with my partner and it’s been years since I’ve dated anyone.

The last was Cassandra. She cheated on me, and it was because of her hang up. She was too uncomfortable with me being femme-ish, but I don’t apologize for being me. If I want to wear bows in my hair or on my shoes, I will. If I want to paint my nails and wear bracelets, I will. If I want to wear makeup, I will. But it was the height difference that did us in.

She was six foot two to my five foot eight. I never had a problem with it. She was gorgeous and had the best personality. And o.m.g. the sex was fire. At least, I thought it was. I never understood why she made the choice to cheat on me in my own damn apartment. Why bring a guy back to your boyfriend’s place? She cried when we broke it off. Even apologized. I wished her well, and we parted ways.

“Gabe?” Van startles me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” His tail lifts and hesitates before moving toward me to land on my shoulder.

“Fine,” I whisper. “I’m fine.” Though my mind keeps trying to go back to that dark place that I’m not worthy of having a partner that loves me the way I am.

“You really don’t look fine.” Van’s tail tips my chin up. Concern fills his eyes, and I have to wonder why everyone calls him selfish.