Faery Godlover

***

As the cab driver gawked at the three-hundred-dollar tip, Duada made his way across the sidewalk and into the building, glancing up with a slight frown at the ‘unique’ atmosphere that the landlord seemed to be cultivating in Jasmine’s living space.

Perhaps he had come off as too condescending when he first met Jasmine. He often forgot what it must be like to lack the staggering resources available to him as a prince. If he wanted to, he could probably buy this place out and renovate it in… what, a week? He didn’t know how these human construction projects went.

In any case, he now realized that Jasmine really didn’t have a choice in how she lived her life. Few humans did, considering how they ran things. It was remarkably backwards, but the average worker certainly couldn’t be to blame. In fact, Duada thought as he made his way up the stairs, someone like Jasmine must have been particularly resilient to be able to get by as well as she did in these conditions.

That must have been it, he realized—what it was that started to attract him to her. But he saved those thoughts as he simply pushed open the door to Jasmine’s apartment and was greeted by her scream as he stepped in, blinking.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I inter

rupting something?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Jasmine held her heart as she recovered from the shock, leaning against the kitchen counter with what looked like a mug of tea in her hand. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, clearly getting ready for bed, but Duada’s eyes ravaged her nonetheless. Those pants only showed off her luscious curves, from her ample hips to her lovely, round thighs that he just wanted to slap his hand against.

But he had to restrain himself, even as he stepped forward into her home.

“Okay, you cannot tell me you don’t knock on the door where you’re from,” she said, regaining her breath.

“We do,” he admitted with a coy smile, “I just prefer to make my appearances a lovely surprise.”

“Well,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him and setting her tea on the counter as she looked him up and down. “Hi, I guess. You uh, look pretty nice tonight, are you going somewhere?”

His ego purred with approval at her words, and he smiled as he stepped into the kitchen, letting his fingers trace across the counter as he moved. “Just here. But I should say the same of you.”

She snorted in laughter. “Are you kidding? I’m surprised you can tell me apart from the garbage can.”

Duada blinked at her in incomprehension.

She waved her hand with a smile. “Never mind. Anyway, I guess I should apologize to you.”

The prince looked taken aback, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the counter, standing across the room from her as he regarded her carefully. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“I really, genuinely thought something was going to go horribly wrong at the end of tonight,” she said, and Duada winced at the smile she had on her face. It was genuinely pleasant.

“Dear Jasmine,” he said, not missing a beat with his playful smile, “what could ever give you that expectation?”

“No, really, I was thinking this next guy was going to end up being some serial killer or demand that I sit on balloons for him or something.” She blushed a little, and Duada felt something stirring in him at the sight of such color in her cheeks. “I guess I kind of thought you wouldn’t be sincere with any of this matchmaking stuff, but I guess I was wrong. Bill’s a really nice guy.”

“Indeed?” he said, “Are you thinking of seeing him again?”

“We kinda talked about it, yeah,” she said, rubbing her arm. “So I think I might. But even so, just having one good date for once feels… I don’t know, it’s just nice to be able to feel like I can, you know?” she said picking up her tea and looking into it thoughtfully before taking a sip of it. “It’s like my losing streak has been broken.” She paused a moment, chewing on her lip before she looked back up to Duada and met his gaze. “I never thought I’d say this, but I guess this means I’m sa-”

“Before you say that word,” Duada interjected suddenly, stepping forward without warning and nearly startling Jasmine, “I need to say something…”

She blinked incredulously as he stepped toward her, purpose in every motion. “Are… you serious? I thought you’d be dying to hear me say this. I figured that’s why you’d come over here this late.” As he neared her, he stood close, and Duada saw some surprise in her eyes. Did she recognize the meaning of his unconscious body language? “Um… are you wearing cologne?”

“Jasmine,” he said, “I have one more date I want to set you up on. One last one, and I swear to you,” he said, taking her hand in his, the widening of her eyes as realization dawned in her expression, “you’ll never want another one afterwards.” He didn’t even know where these words were coming from, but based on the way this human woman’s easygoing demeanor and candor made him all the more desirous, he wondered if humans didn’t have some kind of glamour after all.

“Duada,” she said slowly, “are you…?”

“Jasmine, since I’ve arrived here in Newark, I’ve appreciated your beauty,” he said, his eyes roving over her, and this time, she noticed, swallowing as she followed his gaze. “But over the past few days… I don’t know what it is—your tenacity? The way you can bounce back from anything that seems to get thrown your way? The humor you maintain through it all? Or is it just that fucking honey-brown hair that I just can’t seem to get out of my mind?” he asked, pacing around the kitchen as though agitated by something.

Jasmine’s jaw hung open at everything she was hearing, but Duada just kept going. “I can’t get you out of my mind, Jasmine, and it’s driving me mad,” he said at last, stopping in the kitchen and locking eyes with her, letting out a breath before that easy, almost alien smile spread across his face again. “So tomorrow night, I’m taking you out.”

Jasmine blinked, her eyes widening as she stepped away from the counter and into the living room. “You’re just… telling me that you’re asking me out on a date?”

“Yes,” he said simply, crossing into the living room as well, standing at the opposite end of the couch, and just as easily as he’d presented himself sincere and agitated a moment ago, he was back to his playful self the next, though there was a peculiar masculine desire to his voice now. “I’ve been setting you up with all these men but I’ve been a fool to fail to realize I’m wasting you on lesser men. You’re…” he paused, thinking of the words as his eyes looked deep into Jasmine’s incredulous ones, “you’re a kadupul growing out of a rock, twice as lovely and twice as strong. These other men—William may be nice, Jasmine,” he said, stepping forward, and this time, she didn’t move away, but looked into his eyes, for the first time realizing that he was not wearing his sunglasses but showing her his gemlike irises, “but you’re fit for a prince. For me.”