5. Sharing My Boyfriend's ...

Elian let out a low whistle and didn’t answer my question. "Alright, Sherlock, color me impressed."

“But I wasn’t done.” I gestured subtly toward his tattoo. "And the snake? That’s not just a trendy ink job. The way it coils on the back of your hand, if it’s ready to strike anyone in front of you? It’s not for show. People who get tattoos like that usually have a deeper meaning attached. Protection, maybe. A warning. Or a mark of affiliation."

His grin faltered slightly, his sharp edges reappearing as if I’d pressed too close to something real.

I leaned back triumphantly. "Got you, didn’t I?"

He let out a soft chuckle, his voice dipping low. "Impressive. And here I thought I was the one holding the cards."

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, eyeing Elian with a smirk that barely masked my suspicion. "If I had to guess your job, I’d say… disgraced ex-spy, charismatic arms dealer, or, wait for it… tech billionaire who pretends to care about endangered tree frogs for tax write-offs."

Elian’s brow lifted, his lips twitching. "Tree frogs? That’s oddly specific.”

“I don’t know, you're just giving me this ‘bad guy’ vibe…”

He faked gasps. “How could you, Detective?”

"Oh, please. Don’t act all offended," I teased, arching a brow. "My Bullshit Beacon is practically shouting ‘bad guy’ in your direction."

“Bullshit Beacon?” His voice was dripping with mock disbelief. “What, do you have a tiny spy gadget in your purse? Are we in a James Bond movie now?”

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be offended. "Sir, I’ve been way too nice about this. If you’re not a villain, you’re at least one bad decision away from being one. And let’s not even get started on the snake tattoo. People who get those are either retired secret agents, mafia dons, or…"

Elian waited patiently, leaning even closer to me that I could almost notice every detail of his striking blue eyes. How beautiful.

“… you're probably a flirty occult leader.”

His grin turned sly. "So, that’s it. I’m just a villain in your eyes now? No room for nuance? Just a ‘bad guy’ with a snake tattoo and a smile that could melt your defenses? I recall many girls like to fantasize about bad boy romance in their free time. Familiar, perhaps?"

“There!” I jabbed a finger at his chest. “That’s you being flirty.”

"Flirty, huh?” He leaned in just a little more until all of my curled fingers were against his ultra-soft charcoal grey sweater, his lips curling into a teasing smile. Then, his voice dropped, low and smooth like honey. “Now I’m curious, how flirty am I exactly, in your expert opinion?"

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and I absolutely hated it. He was too close, and those eyes... I had to look away before I started doing something ridiculously embarrassing, like staring at his lips for too long or, God forbid, blushing like a schoolgirl.

Oh. My. God.

I straightened up, forcing a cough to clear my throat like I hadn’t just mentally combusted.

"Pfft," I waved it off, way too casually, but my voice still betrayed me by coming out slightly higher than usual. "You’re flirting like a teenager. A bad teenager, mind you. No finesse. No skill. That... that’s definitely something I’ve seen in high school hallway dramas. My boyfriend–"

Wait.

Boyfriend?

That’s not what I meant...

"–I mean, my ex, yeah, he was way more skilled. Way more sophisticated than that."

That should do it, right? Smooth. Confident. Totally not rattled by a man who was one smirk away from sending me into a full-blown internal meltdown.

Elian raised a brow, clearly amused by my attempt to act like I hadn’t just spiraled into a sea of inner turmoil. "I’m sure your ex was a real pro."

"Yeah, he was. Until he wasn’t." I shrugged, trying to make it sound like I didn’t care. "You know, life’s full of surprises. Turns out, your boyfriend can’t be that sophisticated if he’s cheating on you with another man."

Oh. Shit.

My mind froze. My stomach did a weird flip-flop, and then it hit me with the horrifying realization. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But now it was out there, tumbling like an avalanche of unfortunate truths.

My ex. My boyfriend. Cheating. With another man.

"Did I seriously just... share my boyfriend’s dick with another guy? What is wrong with him?!"

The horrific realization hit me like a freight train, and I could feel my face turning five shades of red.

No.

No, no, no.

I wanted to crawl under the table and just…

Disappear.

For the love of all that’s holy, I did not need that image in my head. And yet, there it was, right in front of me. Ugh. I’d said it out loud. And now, I wanted to implode.

Please, someone just end me now.

Elian, of course, absolutely loved the drama. I could see the wicked gleam in his sharp blue eyes, like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse. His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, closing the space between us that I could officially state how soft his sweater was upon a brush on my skin.

“Well,” he purred, voice dripping with amusement and something far more dangerous, “If you’re looking to even the score, Maeve, I’d be more than happy to offer mine for… let’s say, reparations.”

My jaw dropped.

Did he– 

Did he just–

Nope. I was done. My soul was leaving my body.

Goodbye, cruel world.