Chapter 262: (Spin Off) Erind/Deen – 5.21.8

Bending down, I chose a box from the pile by my feet—easy-to-cook cheesy lasagna—and slotted it into the remaining space on the shelf level with my eye. I was rearranging our pantry along with all the new stuff I bought. The box fitted so perfectly at the end of the row like a Tetris block that I half-expected the entire shelf to poof away and points given to me.

Points should be given to me, I thought, taking a step back to admire my work, for being such a responsible daughter.

Three years past twenty, and I had worked for a couple of years before enrolling in Cresthorne Law, but this was the first time I felt like an actual adult doing adulting stuff. And I was proud of this. Who knew stocking the pantry would have this effect on me?

I was prouder of this than… I don’t know… surviving the Eve raid? Killing buttloads of monsters?

“Are you done in there?” Deen’s shadow entered the narrow pantry. She was outside, peering in. “Want some help?”

This was like the fourth time Deen came over, and I replied the same way as the earlier three: it was too cramped for the two of us inside the closet-sized pantry, and she should just photosynthesize or whatever beautiful people did in their downtime. I added the threat of eviction if she continued pestering me. She had regained her confidence and was dangerous to be allowed in a small space with me.

“Two people complete the job twice faster than one,” Deen pouted.

“Thanks for the math lesson,” I said, returning to my work. Next were the cake mixes. It had been some time since I had baked for myself. Not that I was great at it, but the instructions were right there on the back of the box. I needed lots of sweets to dampen my annoyance at Deen.

The soft pitter-patter of feet told me my best friend had entered the pantry despite my ample warnings. She covered me with her shadow, her signature cotton candy scent wafting over me.

“Deen, what did I tell you?” I didn’t turn around to face her; giving her attention would embolden her. Holding another box, I stood on tiptoes to put it on the top shelf. “You’re going to be finding somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

Her fingers crept on my hips. I suppressed the urge to elbow her. I stepped forward to distance myself, but she followed me, her bumpers bopping my shoulder blades. “Don’t be like that,” she cooed. “I’m excited to sleep with you.”

“You’re sleeping next to me, not with me,” I said. “A big difference. And don’t dare lift me as you did at the grocery store.”

“Will you relax?” Deen rested her chin on the left side of my neck. “Why are you so grumpy? Is this the new you… or the old you? Were you a bully as a cheerleader?”

“You’re thinking of cheerleaders in movies. It’s just a trope that they’re usually the antagonists.” I blinked, remembering the past. I never directly bullied anyone, but I had set up many situations that made the lives of people who had irritated me very difficult. Though I didn’t do that because I was a cheerleader—I was just a petty, vengeful brat.

“As I said earlier, you became a reverse social butterfly in law school.” Deen held my hips tighter, pulling me to press back against her. “As if you retreated into a cocoon. Seeing your photo albums, it’s like you’re a different person back then.”

I clenched my jaws for a second. Deen was right that I was different then, but not in how people changed through time—someone’s high school self was obviously different from their college self. Rather, I wore different faces through the years. This was why I didn’t like leaving records of my past—proof of inconsistencies.

“Younger you seem way more assertive,” Deen continued. “But in law school, you’re the quiet girl at the back of the class.”

“What are you on about? I sit in the middle of the room in most classes.”

Deen ignored me. “I really thought you weren’t going to open up to me, but we’ve progressed really far from the start of our friendship. I can’t imagine us being this close months ago. In a weird way, I’m happy that you’re doing stuff like threatening to throw me out, singing out loud at the grocery—”

“Licking you and making you feel good?”

“Hey, shut up on that,” Deen snapped. She slid her hands under my shirt and forcefully pinched my sides.

I instinctively exclaimed, “Ouch!” I squirmed, feeling more ticklish than hurt.

“Ouch yourself. I know that didn’t hurt.” She massaged my flanks, slowly creeping her fingers front to my abdomen, playfully scratching my skin with her nails.

I grabbed her wrists. “If you’re going to poke my belly button, I swear—”

Deen suddenly hugged me, her arms tight across my torso, pushing my shirt up and exposing my midriff. She was glued to me like a monkey to a tree—a very short tree and a tall monkey at that. “I’m not going to do anything to you. Just a harmless hug…”

“Stop undressing me.” I tried to unravel her arms. She wouldn’t budge. I didn’t want to start a mini-scuffle with superstrength and possibly destroy the pantry—carpentry wasn’t one of my Adumbrae powers—so I just pulled my shirt down over her arms. It was too airy. “I’m trying to work here.”

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“Just imagine I’m not here.” She nuzzled my neck. Strands of her hair tickled my cheeks, and her breath warmed my skin.

“You’re obviously there,” I grumbled, grabbing the next box. Deen clung to me like a parasite burdening its host, bending down as well. I could feel her pillowy chest heaving as she giggled at the ridiculousness of our situation.

Surprisingly, I didn’t have the urge to lash out. I still hated the feeling of another human sticking to me, but I had reached a point where my body was tolerating Deen. Like I was physically resigned to the fact that I had to endure this suffering while she was around. Slowly but surely, Deen was succeeding in training me to get used to her like I was her pet.

“Focus on your work,” Deen said in a muffled voice. She had buried her face deeper into the curve of my neck as I placed the box I held on the uppermost shelf. “The faster you finish, the faster you’ll be free of me.”

“What are you doing?” I asked through clenched teeth. Her lips tickled me. Her words felt hot on my skin. Involuntary shudders coursed through my torso. Deen surely felt that. “Are you necking me?”

“Necking?” she mumbled. Her lips pressed harder. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” I said, shrugging my left shoulder to bounce her head. “Are you trying to repay me for licking you earlier?”

“No!” Deen pulled back and released me. The disgusting heat of another body dissipated. “I’m not doing anything like that!”

Weakling, I thought with a smirk. She had to retreat; I was still secure in my advantage. And even If she wanted to escalate, I was resolved to meet it. After all, this was my new hobby. It was a different way of feeling power over someone. Amber Deen Leska, practically every guy’s dream at law school, crumbling before me, just a random girl who’d easily disappear in the crowd—Power.

I turned around, fixing my shirt as I grinned at Deen. She touched her cheeks; she was blushing. I said, “We’ll neck each other if you want—”

“I don’t!” she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched.

I continued, “But you have to wait until after I finish fixing the pantry, okay?”

“I told you that’s not what I want.”

“This place has to be perfect when Mom—”

“Your mom!” Deen raised a finger.

“What about Mom?” I tilted my head right. “Don’t change the topic.”

“Is it going to be safe for your mother… I mean, with you around…”

Deen was trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, but she raised a valid point. All Deen knew was that I was about to lose control on our drive here from La Esperanza—or, I did lose control, massacring the annoying frat guys. I wasn’t going to admit I faked that.

“I’m sure I can control myself,” I slowly said. “And with you here, I don’t think there’s any need to worry.”

“Really? Shouldn’t we take precautions? Like, if you want, we can find you something to eat beforehand so that you won’t—”

“I’m not going to eat any more innocent people,” I firmly told her. “And I’m not going to harm Mom. It’s different with her. I know I can control myself.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Let’s practice.”

“Practice?”

“I’ll turn to Blanchette and prove to you I’m not going to hurt you or anyone.”

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