''I get it,'' he said, ''the sun so loved the moon...''
His voice trailed off. We both knew the story. We knew it all too well. He was looking at me thoughtfully. I, however, turned away.
''What if,'' I began, ''the sun didn't want to die for the m...
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When I re-entered the club, Ben and Tilly were waiting for me. Ben was complaining loudly about something and from Tilly's expression, I guessed that she'd heard it a thousand times.
"He's just so righteous, you know? His whole act is just so high and mighty."
Ben's diatribe hardly seemed bothered by my sudden appearance. My best friend was definitely tipsy and it only helped fuel his rant. Tilly gave me an apologetic and curious look. I simply shook my head and she let the subject go. She didn't push things and I was grateful for it.
"You should hear the way Tucker talks about him! It's all 'Jacob understands the traditions' 'Jacob respects the traditions' 'Jacob wipes my asshole with spiritual leaves' blah blah blah," Ben continued, slurping down another orange drink.
I took the glass from his hand and shot Tilly a look. She could only shrug.
"That sounds terrible, Ben. How about we get you home and you can tell me all about it?"
"Nuh no, dollface. I'm going to stay right here because Jacob might come back and if he does I've got to punch him in his perfectly traditional face!"
At that, I couldn't help but laugh. Ben punching anyone in the face was comical, especially as I watched his barely glittered fist pretend to fly through the air. Tilly rolled her eyes.
"We can punch him tomorrow, Ben, c'mon," I assured him and pushed him toward the door.
I turned toward Tilly and she tossed her keys to me. "I'll get a ride home with Mickey. We'll clean this place up tomorrow."
I nodded and caught the keys. Dragging a drunk Ben behind me was rather entertaining. He kept stopping to throw his hands up in the air and dance with strangers on the dance floor. As we found our way to the door, I realized my head was still spinning.
There was no way I was going to be driving. I didn't have to be a psychic to know that that would end poorly. Luckily, I found our answer waiting in the parking lot smoking a cigarette.
"Malik!" I called in relief. "How sober are you on a scale of 1 to my friend Ben here?"
Malik peered around me to glance amused at my best friend who was doing pirouettes in the gravel. He took a drag from his cigarette.
"Probably a negative 7."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Could you give us a ride home?"
He looked hesitantly at the drunk boy behind me and I knew it was not a tempting offer.
"You know that whole Daemon helping supernatural creatures and finding the balance thing? Well, I'm trying to do my job here, but I could use a teensy bit of help," I begged and pouted a little for good measure.
Malik tossed the cigarette on the ground and gave me a small smile.
"Anything for an angel," he chuckled, "we can take my car."
