City of Demons by Richelle Mead Page A

talking about her. We’re just friends, remember?” Several awkward moments passed. We weren’t making out or anything, but no one in their right mind was oblivious enough to think this outing had no romantic overtones. “So? What about her? Is she in really good shape?”
    â€œUm, yeah,” he finally said. The dangerous topic had triggered some of his usual hesitancy. “Really slim.”
    â€œCool,” I said. “And she doesn’t work out or anything? She must have good genes.”
    Seth choked on his cotton candy a little. “Yeah. Great genes.”
    â€œHow long have you guys been dating?”
    â€œA couple months.”
    â€œIs it serious?” He didn’t reply. “Look,” I said hastily, “if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine, really ...”
    â€œNo, no.” He sighed. “It’s just ... I’m sorry. This is just kind of weird for me. Us. You and me.” He gestured toward the happy people mingling around the carnival attractions. “This. I just don’t ... I’m just not sure ... I don’t know.”
    â€œYou feel guilty?” I asked.
    He considered. “Yeah. A little. I mean, we’re in town for her ... thing, so it’s not like I’m neglecting anything of my own by being here tonight. I got my writing in. She’s busy. And, um, I like hanging out with you, but the whole thing is ...”
    â€œ... weird,” I finished.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI understand. I know it’s hard ... men and women being friends always are. And I don’t want to cause any trouble for you. We can go now if you want.” I paused meaningfully before going in for the kill. “I mean, especially if you guys are having problems or anything . . . probably best if we don’t . . .”
    Seth stared off at the gray line of the Pacific. “Not problems. Just a few kinks here and there.”
    I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. So. Seth didn’t think everything was perfect with us. No surprise there. I sure didn’t. Hearing him acknowledge it—to a woman he hardly knew—yanked painfully at something inside my chest.
    But, he didn’t seem like he was going to elaborate on it, which was good. He also didn’t seem like he was going to get up and leave, however, so he wasn’t taking my—Beth’s—offer to end tonight’s awkwardness. I tried to think of what some ostensibly helpful and secretly lustful woman would say. God knows I’d played this role plenty of times in the past. Nothing like a helpful confidante to pave the way for seduction.
    â€œAnything you want to talk about?” He glanced over at me, and I offered a small smile. “Want a woman’s perspective?”
    He provided a small smile of his own in return and shook his head. “It’s more than that. The prob—kinks we have . . . well, they’re just little cracks here and there in what’s otherwise a . . .” The wheels of word choice spun in his head. “. . . a work of art.”
    â€œLittle cracks can eventually destroy a work of art,” I pointed out.
    â€œYeah,” he said wistfully. “But for now, it’s so beautiful.” More silence fell, and at last, Seth straightened up from the slouch he’d fallen into. “You know, maybe we should go. I’m sorry . . . I don’t mean to . . .”
    Relief flooded through me. Seth was walking away from this situation.
    â€œNo, no, it’s okay,” I assured him, crumpling up the cotton candy paper. “It’s getting late anyway.”
    We stood up, and Seth gathered my winnings again. Frowning, he glanced down at them and then let his eyes drift off to the people walking up and down the midway, watching and playing games. I followed his gaze and knew him well enough to immediately know what held his attention.
    A woman—mid-thirties