PAPER STARS: An Ordinary Magic Story(5)

He stuck his lip out in a pout.

Yeah, that wouldn’t work on me either. I started reading the reports again.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I want an invite. Please invite me to your family Christmas party. Besides, where else would I be? I am sort of attached to you.”

Since he could read my mind, I envisioned some places I’d rather he be. I had a vivid imagination.

That got one short, surprised laugh out of him, and I had to work not to give him a smile in return.

He was charming when he laughed. Handsome when he smiled. Enough so that it was deceptively easy to forget he was a demon in possession of my soul.

And sometimes, like whenever he thought my sister Myra couldn’t see him watching her, I could even see a kind of confused warmth in his eyes that didn’t appear to be fueled by the fires of hell.

The rest of the time, he was an annoying pain in my neck.

“You should call Ryder back.”

“No.”

The phone rang again.

Bathin watched me. “Do you want him to start worrying about you? Selfish. It really could be an emergency. There are creatures out in the world beyond Ordinary, you know. Gods, demons, monsters....”

I made a frustrated sound and grabbed my phone. “Delaney,” I barked.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

And just like that, the warmth and rumble of Ryder’s voice, low and warm and sexy, made everything around me less annoying.

The crackly sound system filtered Nat King Cole crooning about chestnuts and roasting fires.

Rain rattled down the windows. Street lamps set each raindrop ablaze: sparkling like melted stars caught in dark glass.

I was surrounded by people, heat, noise, life. Christmas was in the air.

All I heard, all I felt, was Ryder.

“Not a bad time,” I said, my own voice dropping, all the hard edges and frustration sliding away.

I missed him. His laugh. The way he tried to trick me into telling him which supernaturals lived in town.

The way he rolled out of bed in the morning and walked to the bathroom with his eyes closed, groping at the light switch and shower and not opening his eyes until he was under the warm spray for at least five minute. The way he always offered me the last French fry on his plate.

I wanted to see him, touch him, know he was solid and real in my life. That we were solid and real in this life together.

“You’re good,” I said. “This is good. Is everything okay?”

“Yes?” He inhaled, held it. “Why?”

“You’re calling early.”

That pause again. “I…things are winding down here. With the build. With the holiday coming up, I thought, maybe I should….”

I waited. He didn’t finish the thought. “Should what?”

Did he want to stay there? The long drive home with holiday traffic would be a hassle, especially since he’d just have to turn around and go back to tie off the project’s loose ends the day after Christmas.

My stomach knotted. I pressed my lips together so that I wouldn’t make any disappointed noise when he told me he was going to stay there.

“Should come home,” he said.

I exhaled hard, the rush of my heartbeat making my breath a little hitchy. Bathin raised his eyebrows at me then shook his head. Told you so he mouthed.

“I’ll try to be there by early afternoon tomorrow. If that works for you?”

“That sounds good. Really great.” I cleared my throat. “But the passes are pretty bad after the last freeze. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Promise you’ll drive carefully and chain up.”

“I will.”

Another long pause where I listened to the inhale and exhale of his breathing. I strained to hear more of him, of what was around him.

I could just make out the radio over the rumble of his truck engine. Another Christmas song, this one about peace on Earth, carried by the smooth chocolatly baritone of Bing Crosby mixed with Bowie’s caramel-sweet tenor.

I wondered if he could hear my breathing too, wondered if he strained for more of me like I strained for more of him.

Wondered if he could hear the diner around me as Nat King Cole’s buttered-rum vocals wished us all a Merry Christmas.

“Delaney?” Ryder said.

“Yes?”

“There’s something important I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“Oooh,” Bathin said. “Here it comes. He loves you. Or he’s breaking up with you. Fifty-fifty chance here, no wrong answer.”

I flipped him off. He grinned.

“Something I should have said a long time ago,” Ryder said.

“He’s finally gonna say it. Love? Hate?” Bathin pressed his palms together in prayer position and looked to the heavens. “Hold me, Jesus.”

I glared at him. To Ryder I said, “Okay.”

“I don’t know why it’s taken me so long.” Ryder paused. “But...”

I held my breath. Waited. Everything in me tingled with a rush of excitement.

The boy I’d had a crush on all my life, the man I’d fallen in love with, was finally going to say the three words I’d been waiting to hear.