The Real

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better. I totally geeked out with my costume.”

“You did, but I don’t mind talking to these beautiful tits all night.”

I slugged him with my purse as he pulled me to him with a curt laugh. “God, you’re something.”

“Something?”

“Yeah,” he said, biting his lip. He leaned in and flipped up the edge of my nose to kiss me.

I flinched. “Ouch.”

“Oh, man, this is really on there.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, deflated.

“I’ll work around it,” he promised before he gently took my lips.

“Mmm,” I whispered as he pulled away.

His eyes glittered over me as he shook his head and gave me the smile I met him with.

“What?”

“You.”

Hands clasped, my warlock led me into a black-lit pub and navigated us through a sea of brilliant wh

ite teeth. We were halfway to the bar when we heard Cameron’s name shouted.

I watched as the man sauntered up wearing a chemical lab suit and a shit-eating grin.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” Cameron asked as they clasped hands.

“Who do you think I am, bitch?” he replied with a panty-dropping smirk.

“Ah,” I said, giving him a nod as he held out his hand for me. “He’s Jessie from Breaking Bad.”

The man took my offered hand and kissed the back of it. “She’s far wiser than you,” he said to Cameron before smiling at me. “I’m Max.”

Max was handsome in his own right, a little shorter than Cameron, but was just as massively built. Where Cameron was dark, Max was a bit lighter in hair and eye color. His were a beautiful light brown.

“Max, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise, Abbie, love your costume. You went all out, didn’t you?” Cameron nudged his side, and Max looked over at him with a “What?”

“It’s fine,” I whisper-yelled to Cameron over the high-octane house music. “Thank you, Max.”

“Want some punch? It’s killer. Or maybe some meth?” He pulled two bags of blue candy from his pockets.

“Nice,” Cameron said, shaking his head with a grin. “And this man works for the government.”

“CIA,” Max said.

“Liar,” Cameron said with an eye roll.

“Can’t ever let me look good, can you, asshole?” Max groaned in jest.

“First of all, anyone who works for the CIA wouldn’t openly admit it,” Cameron said. “And there’s really nothing intelligent about you. I should know, I lived with you for six years. The smartest thing you ever did was light that cesspool you called a bed on fire.”