Supernatural Love Page 8

  By the end of our shopping spree, we have three boxes of diapers, formula, bottles, two-dozen outfits, and toys. Selene has calculated the total, including discounts, down to the penny. I wonder if that was part of Felix’s reason for inviting her. If I was on a budget, she’s the sort of person I’d want at my side.

  Once we approach the check-out, Selene leaves Felix and me to put everything on the belt. She returns with an empty cart. Felix and the cashier chat about work, although I can tell that Felix doesn’t know this cashier well. He’s friendly, of course, but not personable enough to be close to this person. Felix also doesn’t tell the cashier he’s about to quit, which means that this cashier, whose tag says only New Team Member, isn’t held in as high esteem as Selene.

  Without hesitation, Selene begins to put all the bagged items into the empty cart, and it’s easy to see why. There isn’t much counter space to work with. Four bags and it’s overflowing. Once everything is bagged and all the coupons scanned, Felix pulls out his wallet. I almost protest, but Felix shoots me a death-glare. Normally, I’d argue anyway, but not this time. He’s about to quit his job, and that’s what I really want.

  He’ll just be so much happier once he’s left this hellhole. I’ll give him his independence winning day without interference. I just hope that, in the event he can’t make it on his own, he asks me for help rather than taking out a high-interest loan or going without.

  We’ve checked out. I push the full cart, and Selene pushes the empty one. Their manager Haley stands behind the customer service desk, chewing out another employee in front of a very awkward-looking customer. God, someone like that really shouldn’t be in management. I pull the cart off to the side and grin. Selene stands beside me and leans against the cart.

  Felix waits in line. I would’ve just stormed up to Haley and shouted right in her face that I was quitting. There’s no point in being nice and polite now, but this is Felix’s approach and moment, not mine. If he wants to wait in line behind a customer, that’s fine.

  I just wish it wasn’t taking for fucking ever for them to deal with this customer. The customer service associate clearly knows her stuff, but Haley doesn’t seem to care. Haley’s solution is evidently to commandeer the computer and scowl at it.

  “God, I hate retail,” Selene says.

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  Selene laughs. “I’m only here until I can get something with my degree,” she says.

  That’s right. I vaguely recall Felix telling me that at some point. He’d been so proud and impressed with Selene’s mathematical skills. Poor Felix has always sucked at math. Throughout his entire childhood, I’m pretty sure the highest grade he ever got in math was a C+, and that was in geometry. And damn did Felix struggle for that C.

  Finally, Felix makes it to the counter.

  “Were you supposed to come in today?” Haley asks.

  It’s unclear whether she knows if he’s actually supposed to be working or not.

  “No. I am supposed to come in tomorrow, though, but I won’t be. I just want you to know that I quit.”

  “You already quit.”

  “No, I put in my two weeks. There’s a difference,” Felix says, putting just the right amount of obnoxiousness in his voice. “I’m never working here again, so you’ll have to find a way to cover my shifts.”

  Fuck, yes! He’s on a roll.

  Haley’s face is a mask of stony disapproval. “If you quit without working your two weeks, you do realize you can’t work with us again, right?”

  “Why would I want to?” Felix asks. “Remember that jewelry business I started up? It occurs to me that I’m making so much money doing that I don’t really need to work here, so why am I bothering?”

  “I see.”

  Haley’s voice is calm, but her face is flushed.

  “Oh, good,” Felix says. “I’ll see you around, then. Have fun with the busy season!”

  He turns back towards us and grins. I clap Felix on the back. “I am so fucking proud of you,” I say.

  Felix laughs. “Yeah, me, too,” he says. “That was surprisingly freeing.”

  “Good job,” Selene says.

  She strides away from us and swings her hips exaggeratedly. Oh, fuck, she’s going to quit, too, isn’t she?

  “Oh, crap,” Felix says. “They’re going to have no one in that department if she quits, too.”

  And that seems to be exactly what Selene’s plan is. She leans over the counter and puts a hand on her hip. “Just so you know, Haley, I’m quitting, too.”

  Haley nods stiffly. “Good riddance,” she sneers.

  “Glad you feel that way,” Selene replies.

  After she returns to us, she and Felix high-five. I smirk and push the cart behind them. Sucks to be Haley.

  It’s been a week since Felix quit his job at Target, so I’m hanging around more. I work on my script while he makes jewelry and posts pictures of it across a plethora of social media sites. His business is on so many platforms he has a list of sites and passwords to keep track of them all. He’s set up a small box covered in a bedsheet in the corner of his kitchen in order to create a more professional looking background for taking photos of his products. Although I’m working on my script and touching base with all my actors, cameramen, and lighting crew, I make sure to offer Felix an inordinate amount of positive feedback. I should probably be on-location already, but I feel like that would be abandonment.

  If I don’t stay, I know he’ll start questioning his decision to leave Target, and leaving that dead-end job is probably the best decision he’s made in years. I wonder if his constant working on his jewelry is also partly a distraction. Of course, it makes sense that he’s working on it. He wants to succeed, and when Felix wants to succeed, he pursues things with single-minded focus.

  But he’s also never quit a job in his life. Felix started working for a locally owned grocery store when he was sixteen, but they went under a couple of years later, laying everyone off. He’s been at Target since he was eighteen. Four years of working in that hellhole. I remember when he began and how happy he was. How much he loved that job. But he came in with the pre-Black Friday seasonal employees, when the store was fully staffed and had better managers. It wasn’t a bad place to work, but it slowly became worse. I don’t even recognize most of the people who work there now. It’s about time Felix left.

  I look up from page forty of my script. I wonder if my leading lady is trying too hard to be the empowered, independent woman I want her to be. Felix is carefully threading some of the silver, cultured pearls I bought him onto a length of silver wire.

  “I’m going up to the house next week,” I say. “Do you want to come?”

  Felix raises an eyebrow. “I could just stay home. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to go, but I’m absolutely no help.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I reply. “I want you there for moral support and so we can spend time together. I mean, this close to your due date, you probably shouldn’t be alone much anyway. What if something happened?”

  “You don’t have to look after me.”

  Yeah, I do. He’s my best fucking friend, and I’m going to help him through every step of this process. He doesn’t know who the father of his kid is and I don’t care. I’m going to be this kid’s incredibly wealthy uncle. Felix’s daughter is going to be spoiled fucking rotten. She’s going to go to all the best schools and have anything she wants.

  “Someone has to,” I say. “Mr. I Can Totally Pick Up That Really Heavy Object.”

  Felix winces. “Okay, I shouldn’t have tried moving the nightstand,” he concedes, “But I’ve learned my lesson now.”

  Sure he has. He’s as stubborn as a mule. “Okay,” I say, “But you’re a reasonable man who knows the importance of security. That’s why you stuck it out at Target for so long. It was a reliable source of income, and you were guaranteed hours because of their terrible staffing, right?”

  Felix narrows his eyes. I rec
ognize that expression. He only makes it when he’s thinking over something very carefully. “They insisted the staffing issue was temporary,” he says.

  “Yeah, a temporary issue that wasn’t fixed in years.”

  “I don’t know why I bother arguing with you,” Felix says. “I’ll never win.”

  “Damn straight, you won’t,” I reply smugly.

  I turn my attention back to my script. I’m considering renaming my heroine now. Maybe it’s a bit too on the nose to have a powerful, ‘chosen one’ type heroine, and give her the name Joan. I’d been thinking Joan of Arc, but maybe I should be more subtly.

  I mentally work through the scenes we’ve already filmed and that are set to be filled first. It’s probably too late to change Joan’s name, but I can still alter some scenes with her character.

  “Hey, speaking of names,” I say.

  Felix furrows his brow.

  “I was thinking about names in my script,” I clarify. “Have you narrowed the names down any?

  “Well, I want to do a gemstone,” Felix says, “But not one that’s too out there. I don’t think I’d want a little Tanzanite running around.”

  I wince. “Dear God, please, don’t do that.”

  “So. Since she’s set to arrive October 29th—”

  “Are you sure you can’t stretch it to Halloween?” I ask. “That would be great.”

  “We’ll see. I’m thinking Opal. That’s the birthstone for October. That and pink tourmaline, but Tourmaline would be dreadful,” Felix replies. “I’m also considering Amber, though.”

  “Opal is more unique,” I offer.

  “And you’re all for unique names,” Felix says.

  “Hey, if you had to grow up with knowing forty-billion different Nates, you’d want to give your kid a unique name, too.”

  “You wouldn’t have had that problem if you’d chosen to go by Nathaniel,” Felix replies.

  “Ugh. That sounds like someone’s grandfather,” I say. “Or that one writer that no one ever reads.” Admittedly, Nathaniel does sound vaguely like a name befitting of a horror director, but still.

  “I also like the idea of Sapphire, though,” Felix says. “It’s a beautiful, very hard gemstone. That would be a fitting name.”

  “For a stripper,” I reply.

  Felix’s jaw drops.

  “Hey, I’m just trying to save your child a lifetime of bad jokes and embarrassment,” I point out. “That is a stripper’s name.”

  “Amber?”

  “Is okay,” I reply. “I do prefer Opal, though, and it is more unique. Without being Braeylynne or something bizarre. Easy to spell, too.”

  “Opal Rose Monroe,” Felix says, testing the tentative name. “I still don’t like that middle name.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  Felix shrugs. “Well, obviously.”

  He’s finished a necklace and holds it at a distance, admiring it. Seemingly satisfied, Felix takes the necklace into the kitchen to photograph. From there, he’ll post it all over the internet. I look at my script but I think about Felix. He works so hard. Where does he get that drive from?

  9

  Felix

  I sit on a cushion in a chair Nate tasked some poor soul with dragging into the parlor for me. I’m far enough away not to interfere with the filming but still close enough to observe it all. Nate is really in his element here. He knows everything and throws out orders like a man who’s born to command. Nate is like a youthful, energetic god, and the filming process is his grand creation. He goes from his actors to the lighting crew and back to his sound operator at top speed, making minor corrections that throw the entire production into a new and better light.

  I don’t understand exactly what he’s doing, but it’s fascinating to watch him being so animated. I’ve seen managers work before, and though Nate is a director rather than a manager, it’s still fascinating to watch him. He isn’t passive-aggressive or rude. He’s patient but firm and when he catches mistakes he just gently corrects them. It’s nice to see this side of him.

  As I watch, I can’t stop thinking about how encouraging and supportive he’s been lately. Not because he’s an alpha and socially expected to look after a pregnant omega, but because he cares about and supports me. I think about the pride in his face when I quit my job, the compliments he gives my jewelry and the way he smiles when he watches me take pictures of my merchandise.

  And didn’t my heart flutter and leap when he said that someone needed to be around to look after me? Because I am excited about having the baby, but I’m also terrified that something will go horribly wrong. I like having Nate around and knowing that he’ll be there if I need him. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m going to cave. No matter how often he asks, I’m not going to just accept his money and let him take care of me, but it’s also nice to know he’ll be there if I do need him.

  I love him.

  What? That can’t possibly be right, can it?

  I love him. I mentally repeat that in my mind until it becomes a mantra.

  I love him. I’m in love with him.

  He hasn’t noticed, or he would’ve said something. Subtlety isn’t his strong suit.

  My heart pounds in my chest as he saunters over to me. Couldn’t he have just waited a little while? “We’re taking a lunch break,” Nate says, falling into the chair beside me. “You’re not bored, are you, Kitten?”

  “I have a book to read if I gets bored,” I reply.

  Nate stretches and throws an arm across my shoulders. I swallow and try not to act like my thoughts are spinning out of control.

  “You know. You could make some jewelry for the set,” Nate says. “I’d pay you for it.”

  “You couldn’t pay me for it,” I reply. “You’re my friend.”

  Nate sighs. “No, it doesn’t work that way. Come on. I’m offering to give you legitimate business, and you just want to not let me pay you? You’re impossible.”

  I can’t help the heat that rises to my face and the tips of my ears. I hope Nate won’t notice. If he does, he’ll ask why I’m flushing.

  He’s not in love with me, and my unrequited crush is solely my problem. I resolve to keep it that way. It’s just because I’m hormonal. That’s it. Maybe if I tell myself that enough I can ignore the reality of the situation, which is that I’ve been slowly falling for him since we had friends with benefits sex. Or was it before then? Maybe this has been building inside me for a very long time.

  “You can pay me for the costs only,” I offer.

  “Nope. Your time, too,” Nate says. “Come on. I don’t expect a special discount because I’m your friend. For God’s sake, Felix, you’re going to put yourself in the poor house with your damn pride.”

  “Okay,” I say. “That’s fair.”

  Nate casts me an odd look which I pretend to ignore. It’s probably because I gave in too quickly, but I don’t care about the argument. I don’t even know what I want. Except evidently, Nate. Well-done, Felix. This is a mess.

  I lay in bed and throw my head back into the pillow. It’s hard to get comfortable. Everything hurts, my hormones are going haywire, and I’ve had to buy a lot of new clothes because none of the old ones fit. I’m dressing mostly for comfort these days, and I really miss my denim jeans. I also don’t feel very attractive. I hadn’t realized just how vain I was until recently. Is it bad to feel like I’m no longer desirable now I’m pregnant, or is that a normal thing?

  Nate is in the shower. The water pounds in the bathroom and I can hear it through the walls. The rhythm is like a lullaby, but it isn’t as soothing as it should be. I suddenly feel uncomfortable in here with Nate. Not because he’s done anything but because I can’t stop thinking about him. How I love him.

  I take a deep breath and look around. My tired looking backpack sits in a corner. Everything of mine is packed away neatly and out of the way. Nate’s stuff isn’t. Two of his three suitcases are thrown open. There’s a stream of clothes tossed over t
he nightstand spilling onto the table. He’s cleared a place for his laptop, but the area around it appears to be fair game for clothes and film equipment. He’s a mess without his staff to clean up after him.

  That really shouldn’t be endearing considering how hard I work to keep everything neat and clean, but somehow, it is. Maybe it’s because it’s what makes him Nate. My life is so sparse, while Nate’s is overflowing with clutter, and somehow, looking at all his stuff makes this place feel more like home.

  I grab a spare pillow, put it over my face, and scream into it. I shouldn’t be thinking about Nate this way. He isn’t interested in me, and that should be enough for me to gather my senses and be uninterested, too. Even knowing that isn’t enough. I sigh and point the remote at the television, turning up the volume as if that can somehow silence the loud cacophony of ideas fighting for dominance in my head.

  But though he’s trying his hardest to keep my attention, Kevin James just isn’t doing it for me tonight. At least there’s popcorn.

  It takes an inordinate amount of effort and resolve to climb out of bed and into the kitchen for the popcorn. I put it in the microwave and wait. Soon, the smell of butter fills the air. I listen to the pops and draw a shaky breath. Well. Butter and salt is one way to drown my sorrows.

  I shake the bag once I’ve pulled it out of the microwave and open the mini-fridge for a bottle of water. I really miss caffeine, but I’m trying to cut back on most of my bad habits. Popcorn will stay, but I’ve tried very hard to cut out the sodas and to eat regular meals. And coffee. I miss my morning coffee more than anything, and every time I walk into my kitchen, my empty coffee pot and half-full carton of creamer serve only to mock me. At least eating more regularly isn’t hard, because I’m hungry all the time now and crave the strangest things. I thought Nate might legitimately throw up when I tried peanut butter and pickles. It really wasn’t that bad, but then I’m starting to like the weirdest combinations these days. I guess that’s fine. Until I start to hate my beloved popcorn, at least.