Lips Red As Blood

03 |

Asher raises an eyebrow, lifting the frosted glass to his lips. After taking a few sips of the freshly-made strawberry smoothie, he sets it down. "Aren't you going to sit?" he asks, smiling innocently. "You're blocking the way." 

Cora plunks down on the booth, though her eyes narrow warily. 

"Wanna try a sip?" Asher says, sliding the tall glass in her direction. "This is pretty good, you know. Tastes like fake strawberries." 

The straw is destroyed, tiny teeth marks on the side, the plastic nearly bent in half. Cora cringes. "No, it's fine," she mutters. "I don't need anything right now." 

Asher considers that for a moment, before shrugging. "Suit yourself. Besides, I wouldn't have let you touch my drink at all. I was just trying to be polite." 

You ruined your "politeness" by telling me that, Cora thinks darkly. "So, Asher, we drove an hour from my apartment to come to this restaurant. What's the reason, other than the smoothie?" 

He flashes a cocksure grin. "The smoothie." 

Normally Cora isn't a violent person, but she feels the sudden urge to reach over and smack that stupid smoothie out of his hand. Preferably with the drink sliding towards his pants. 

After a tense second, Cora exhales. "How does this whole deal work?" she finally asks. "I know that you're supposed to help me fall in love and I'm supposed to let you stay in my apartment, but the falling in love part is too general." 

"One, you have to find someone. Two, they have to reciprocate your feelings. Three, you have to be so much in love, you're willing to die for the other person," he explains. "And four, you have to be able to see your ex without feeling any sort of longing, bitterness, panic, etc." 

Asher makes it sound so easy, yet unease shifts through Cora like wildfire. 

"As for the apartment arrangements, I'm able to come and go whenever I want. You're not able to kick me out or call the police on me, otherwise I get your soul. So sending me those provocative looks you're giving me right now isn't going to work, Angel." 

Cora bites her tongue. "Can't you just call me by my name?" she manages. 

"Do you not like the nickname?" He pouts. "I searched up pet name ideas and the best I could find was Angel." 

Asher looks genuinely disappointed. "Whatever," Cora sighs. "I bet you call all your past assignments by that nickname." 

He leans forward, so close that Cora can see tiny gold flecks in his eyes. Asher's lips tilt up into a dangerous smile, as a searing burn kicks up through her stomach. "Nope," Asher murmurs, biting down on his lower lip in an almost flirtatious manner. "Just you." 

Then he continues. "But then again, my past assignments mainly consisted of middle-aged men who were also taken, so I felt it wasn't that appropriate to give them nicknames." 

Cora blinks. 

"Anyways, we should tackle the bigger problem." Asher points a finger in Cora's direction. "Since I gave you a nickname, you should give me one too." 

"A nickname?" Cora echoes dumbly. 

"Yes." He looks pleased with the idea. "Like... Ash. Or Ashy. Or pumpkin pie honey cakes with glazed sprinkles." 

Cora chokes on air and starts coughing nonstop. Asher looks concerned, as he unhelpfully looks around for a waiter to bring water. "Are you okay—" 

"I am not calling you pumpkin honey and whatever you just said!" Cora shouts, and everyone in the restaurant turns to stare at them. 

Asher frowns. "Hmm, I guess you're right. The nickname is way too long and if we've ever in a situation where we're in a life-and-death moment, I can't expect you to say that long of a word." 

She groans, banging her head against the table. "I guess we'll figure out the nickname thing eventually," Asher says. "So it's okay if you're frustrated right now—" 

"Excuse me for a moment," says Cora, standing up. "I need to take a ten minute trip to the bathroom so I can have a rest break from the devil who keeps talking nonstop about nicknames." 

Without waiting for his response, she walks out of the booth. 

When Cora arrives at the bathroom, heavy scents of lavender perfume clog the air, and she grimaces. Okay. Pep talk time. 

We aren't going to punch his face or do anything remotely violent, Cora thinks, splashing water on her face. Because that won't help the situation at all. It takes an average amount of four months to say "I love you" so it'll only be about four months of staying with that annoying devil. 

A ring tone echoes through the bathroom, snapping her out of her thoughts. Cora digs into her pocket, the phone lighting up as the name "Harper" pops up. Oh, crap. 

With a sigh, she answers the phone. "Hi, Cora," a sweet voice says, and Cora imagines her twenty-five year old sister twirling her dyed golden hair. "Do you wanna tell me where you are and why you aren't home right now?" 

If they were standing next to each other, Harper's dimples would be showing as she smiles innocently, though her brown eyes would be flashing murderously. 

"I had a situation to take care of," Cora mumbles. 

"Like what?" Harper lets out a delicate laugh. "Do I need to murder anyone? Should I go to the grocery store to buy some items that can be useful?" 

The word "murder" comes out of Harper's mouth daily and even though Cora sometimes worries for her sister's sanity, Harper is harmless. Mostly. 

"For the last time, you don't have to murder everything that gets in my way," says Cora. "I know how to take care of myself—" 

There's a loud explosion outside and Cora's blood runs cold. "What was that?" Harper demands, voice sharp. "Did I just hear an explosion?" 

Before Harper can ask more questions, a hand slithers from behind and ends the call. Cora slowly turns, fear threading through her veins. 

"Hi." A pretty girl is standing there, smiling widely. She reads the confusion on Cora's face. "Oh, sorry. I'm here to eliminate you. Permanently." 

Author Note: 

i'm sorry, but my favorite thing to do is to come up with ridiculous pet names, which might not be very apparent. anyways, random question: how's the story so far? is anyone confused with anything yet?