“Everything’s just a mess.” I sighed while watching the TV. I flipped through the news channels, looking for something specific.

  It had been a few days after the Tea Party attacked the Greaves Tech Fair, and I destroyed their base in return. The news was filled with stuff about casualties, investigations, and even conspiracy theories about what had happened. People were panicking; there were riots and rallies. An exodus out of the city had begun. It was the same thing that happened at La Esperanza in the aftermath of the Adumbrae Titan roaming about.

  But I didn’t care about any of that. I wanted news about the Corebrings. They were supposed to help in the investigations or something, but I couldn’t find anything about them after the initial announcement that their ship had arrived.

  Was that really Dad? While I was at the police station to get tested—I had taken a Suppressor for it—I watched live footage of the Corebring ship on TV. The news had shown several people exiting the ship. One of them looked like my supposedly dead father.

  But it shouldn’t be him. Assuming that Dad had indeed joined the Corebring Hive as a researcher or whatever, faking his own death to protect us, he wouldn’t show his face now. That was contrary to the whole point of his fake death.

  Yep. I was just hallucinating back then. Probably just tired.

  Mentally. Not physically.

  Deen wasn’t helping me rest at all. Freaking stressful having her around. And it was going to get worse after Mom left for Europe later today.

  “Hopefully, things will stabilize soon,” Deen said, bringing over two steaming cups. “Once the city has calmed down a few levels, we can go out and have a date.”

  She set the cups on the table and plopped herself beside me. She kissed my cheek, maintaining contact with her lips for a couple of seconds. Then she trailed her tongue towards my ear, plunging it into the hole.

  “We’re not dating,” I flatly said, leaning away from this weirdo with an ear fetish.

  “Do you mean to say that we’re just fucking… but not dating?” Deen giggled like an immature brat. She had been needling me about this yesterday. I knew that she didn’t actually want any label in our relationship; she just wanted to annoy me.

  “'Cause we’re really not.” I looked at the TV, thinking of a new topic. Then I looked down at the table. “Two hot chocos? You made one for yourself, too? Or are both cups for me?”

  “You can drink both if you want, but you’re not going to like this one.” Deen pointed at the cup in front of her. The liquid in it was of a darker color. “I made this with eighty-six percent dark chocolate. Yours is super sweet milk chocolate, just the way you like it.”

  “Eighty-six percent?” I made a face. Just imagining the bitterness made me want to eat a spoonful of sugar. “Who the hell even measures that?”

  “The company that made the chocolate?” Deen took a sip from her abominable drink and smiled at me.

  “Uh, okay, you got me there. But isn’t it so weird to have that number? Eighty-six? They should’ve made it eighty or eighty-five. It’s probably a marketing thing. You like it?”

  “Kind of. Since it’s mostly cacao, it has lots of caffeine. I just think of it as my usual black coffee. I appreciate the fruity and nutty notes.”

  “Listen to yourself, becoming some sort of cacao connoisseur. Well, I’m glad that you like it. I’ll eventually convert you to milk chocolate.”

  Deen wore a smug look. “Consider this as my effort to deepen our connection to have hot choco in the morning.”

  “I think we’ve been connecting with each other more than enough,” I replied before sipping my hot choco.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I hadn’t been getting much sleep the past few nights. After we defeated the Tea Party, I thought Deen would just sleep normally. A lot of innocents died. We’ve been through a lot, fighting Adumbrae and stuff. We should’ve rested, right? I knew that I wasn’t normal, but even I knew how to read the situation. However, to Deen’s mind, we should celebrate our win with some eating… not for sustenance kind of eating.

  And Deen had been so persuasive that I couldn’t say no. Even if I pretended to sleep, Deen would feel me up and stuff. Probably counted as sexual assault.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if Mom had an inkling of what was happening the next room over. If Mom did suspect anything, she thankfully didn’t hint at it. Maybe Mom was traumatized by her ordeal of getting captured by the Tea Party and didn’t have the headspace to wonder about the strange noises coming from my room.

  I felt the hot and comforting liquid touch my lips, and then warm my mouth and throat. It was thick, just like I wanted it. And very sweet, leaning more into milky notes rather than the taste of cacao.

  At this point, I should probably just drink milk, I thought, glancing at Deen’s breasts.

  “How is it? Do you like it?” Deen asked.

  “It’s just hot choco, not a dish,” I said. “It’ll always be good.”

  Deen forcefully exhaled as she rolled her eyes. “You should be praising me for a job well done. More than that. There should be reciprocation.”

  “Why is it always transactional with you?” I had noticed that this was the way Deen operated. She’d do something to me, whether I asked for it or not, and she’d demand that I reciprocate. It was like an office-mandated Christmas exchange gift thing.

  “It’s probably caused by the mindset instilled in me by my parents,” Deen said. “Are you going to accept me for what I am?”

  “What are you supposed to be? A horny monster?”

  “A toxic girlfriend.”

  I almost choked on my drink. “Gi-girlfriend?” This was the first time Deen brought this up. I actually expected it to be sooner, like after we did the deed. But it still caught me off guard when this time finally came. I had no idea how to deal with this. “What, uh, girl-space-friend are you talking about? Of course, I accept you as a friend.”

  Deen held up a finger and tapped my nose. “Firstly, I meant girl-no-space-friend. Secondly, you didn’t even deny that I’m toxic.”

  I blinked. “Because… you are?”

  She shrugged. “Fine. I concede that. And I’m not changing who I am. You have no choice but to accept me.”

  “I still haven’t thrown you out of the window. So, I guess I’m accepting you.”

  “As for the other matter—”

  “Are we really going to talk about that now?” Rejecting Deen might push her away from me, which I didn’t want to happen. With so many enemies, and my plan to attack Red Island, I’d need her help. I might have no choice but to pretend to be in a relationship with her. Given what we’ve been doing for the past few nights, we might very well be girlfriends.

  “If you don’t want to, then fine,” Deen said. She didn’t sound hurt, which was a good thing. “You can’t keep putting it off forever. But I’m not backing down on my demand for reciprocation.”

  “Compensation for making me hot choco?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re very needy.”

  “No, I’m not,” Deen said. “I’m very rich.” Then she stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.

  “Okay, that’s a good comeback.” I brought my cup to my lips and took a long sip of the hot choco, which had cooled down a bit. But I didn’t swallow it.

  I placed my cup on the table and turned to Deen. I held her cheeks, keeping her head in place, and stretched up to her for a kiss. As soon as our lips touched, I pushed out with my tongue to part her teeth. I knelt on the cushions and tilted Deen’s chin up. Then I pushed out the hot choco from my mouth into hers. I was like a mother bird feeding her chicks mashed food straight from her mouth.

  I caressed Deen’s throat, feeling her drink up the milk chocolate that she hated. No way she was going to spit out something with my spit.

  “The calories!” Deen exclaimed as I broke off the kiss.

  “Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” I said, wiping the chocolate dripping down the side of her lips. “You’re not getting fat from just that. And don’t tell me that you didn’t like it.”

  Deen sheepishly grinned as she clutched her chest. “I did. I appreciate your effort spicing things up between us.”

  “I have to be creative to keep your degenerate cravings satisfied.”

  “Does it mean you admit that you’re my girlfriend?”

  “What? I didn’t mean it that—” I stopped as my phone rang. “Is this Mom? She just left awhile…” I read the name flashing. It was Myra calling me. What did she want this early in the morning?