Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 36

**OZ**

I stare after Kacia, utterly floored. Damn it all. This was supposed to be simple. Respectful. A reasonable plan from a guy who is experiencing some very unreasonable feelings. After breakfast, I made a decision. I’d dial everything back. Give her space. Let her set the pace. So I came up with a system, only touch her if she touches me first. And even then, Only in the way she touches me. A shoulder tap for a shoulder tap. A nudge for a nudge. Safe. Predictable. Boundaried. It was a good plan. A sensible plan. Or so I thought. Apparently, I was way too obvious about it. Because Kacia didn’t just notice my behaviour, she turned it into a game. Every move she made, she made on purpose. Testing me. Poking at the boundaries I set like she was trying to figure out how far I’d let her go, and how far I’d follow. She touched my arm. My shoulder. She ruffled my hair like I was some kind of affectionate stray. And each time, I copied her. Because that was the rule. My rule. Then she reached for my waist, right over where my tail’s hidden. I froze. I felt it like a lightning strike straight through my chest. And when I reached for her in return, she danced away with that sly, maddening smile and completely called me out. She knew. She knew exactly what I was doing. And instead of being creeped out or annoyed, she’s teasing me. Flirting. With her eyes, her smirk, her whole damn existence. The whole POINT of this plan was to pull back. To keep things manageable. To stop myself from spiraling into the same dangerous territory as last night where I almost kissed her. Almost. But now that I’ve backed off… SHE’S the one pushing forward. And stars help me, I love it. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be keeping my distance. Playing it safe. But the way she turned this whole thing into a joke, like it’s cute that I’m trying to be respectful instead of just frustrating, it makes me want to throw all my damn self control straight into the sun. I want to grab her and kiss her so badly I ache with it. I want to pull her in and finally do what I didn’t let myself do last night. But I can’t. So instead, I take three deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Try to force my body to chill out. Then I follow her into the cafe, hoping she can’t see just how close I am to losing my grip while wondering if she really does want me to.

My first thought about this cafe is that the coffee must be damn good. because it’s packed. Every table is full, the air smells like espresso and cinnamon, and there’s a whole queue winding back from the counter. Kacia is easy to spot, standing at the very end of the line. Still smiling to herself with that smug little grin. I swear I can feel the satisfaction radiating off her like heat. She throws me a sideways glance as I approach, and yeah, there it is. That wicked gleam in her eye. She knows she’s winning whatever this ridiculous game is. Damn it. Fine. Game on. I move to stand beside her just as the woman in front of us swings around to wrangle her toddler… And slams her gigantic handbag square into Kacia’s shoulder. Kacia stumbles, lets out a quiet little ‘oof,’ and crashes sideways into me. Her hand hits my arm. The other lands on my stomach. She’s solid and warm and close, and for a half second she lingers. Then she steadies herself, steps away, and pretends like it never happened. Which leaves me with a decision to make. Option one, be a reasonable adult, act like it was nothing, and preserve whatever shred of dignity I have left. Option two, throw that dignity straight into the grinder and play to win. Kacia is still looking entirely too pleased with herself. I choose violence. Well, flirting. Aggressive flirting. Casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I shift behind her. My arm curves around her side, carefully, precisely mimicking where she touched me. Arm and stomach. Nothing else. No rules broken. Yet. I don’t touch her back. Not quite. But I step in just close enough that if she moves even slightly, she’ll brush against me. My palm settles across her stomach, fingers spreading just enough to feel the curve of her waist beneath her jacket. I let them shift a little. Just a little. I feel it when her breath catches. Success. A little jolt of smug satisfaction sparks in my chest. This round goes to me. But now it’s her move. And judging by the twitch at the corner of her mouth, she’s already plotting her next one. My heart’s pounding. I can’t remember the last time flirting felt this silly and fun. And honestly? I kind of hope the line takes forever.

It doesn’t take Kacia long to strike back. With infuriating grace, she slides her hand over mine, still resting on her stomach, and leans back into me like I’m a damn lounge chair. Calm. Casual. Smug as hell. What the hell happened? Not long ago, this sort of proximity would’ve made her stammer and squirm. Now? She’s weaponizing it. Meeting me beat for beat, like she wants to see how far she can push me before I snap. And she’s coming very close. I should back off. That’s what any reasonable person with an ounce of self control would do. But instead, I just stand there behind her, caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan, absolutely rethinking my whole ‘don’t touch unless she touches first’ strategy. She is absolute hell on my restraint. I nearly cave, nearly pull her in properly, wrap my arms around her waist and forget the damn world exists, but then we reach the front of the line, and Kacia, of course, takes that exact moment to step casually out of my arms like nothing ever happened. I have to physically stop myself from reaching after her. The woman behind the counter greets us with a tired smile. She looks like she’s been running on caffeine fumes and pure spite since dawn. 

“What can I get for you today?” She asks politely, already reaching for cups.

“I’ll have a mocha and…” Kacia glances at me. I blink at the menu behind her. Why the hell are there so many options?

“Same thing is fine.” I say quickly. No way I’m navigating that chaos right now.

“Okay, great. Sorry about the wait, I’m a little short-staffed today. My regular barista isn’t in, and I’m ashamed to admit she works this contraption a lot better than I do.” The barista adds as she gets to work. 

“Oh, is she off sick?” Kacia asks, perking up. 

“My friend Dave works at the mechanic’s next door and he’s been off the last few days, too. If she’s who I think she is, they hang out sometimes, right? Maybe they’re both sick?” She suggests. The woman raises an eyebrow, the kind that says ‘I’ve got information and I want someone to ask for it.’ 

“Yeah, she called in sick a few days back. Must be something nasty if she’s still unwell.” She says slowly. She pauses, then smiles. 

“You’re friends with Dave? He’s a sweet boy. Changed the oil in my car for free once. I’ve been silently rooting for him and Amy.” She adds in a low, gossipy tone. Kacia laughs. 

“Me too! Hey, what was her last name again?” She asks. That does it. The woman’s smile flickers, just slightly, and her posture shifts. Suspicion. 

“Why do you ask?” She questions. Kacia’s shoulders tighten ever so slightly, then she recovers like a pro. She lets out a light, effortless laugh… And then grabs my hand. I nearly jolt at the sudden contact, but Kacia just weaves her fingers through mine like she’s done it a hundred times. I blink at her, stunned.

“Oz and I are planning our wedding reception.” She says breezily, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

“And if he manages to get up the nerve, I’m betting Dave will bring her as his plus one.” She says with a smile. I nearly choke.

“BUT there are TWO other Amys on the guest list,my friend from work and his cousin, right Oz? I just want to make sure the seating chart’s clear.” Kacia squeezes my hand sweetly and smiles up at me like I knew we were engaged all along. Her tone has just the right amount of lovestruck joy and exasperation. The barista’s suspicion melts instantly. 

“Oh, in that case, her last name’s Lane. Amelia Lane. And between you and me? If he ever gets the guts to ask her out properly, she’ll definitely say yes. She’s been upgrading his coffee for weeks now.” The woman confesses and winks. Kacia beams.

“Perfect. Maybe I’ll drop a few hints to Dave to bring a date, then.” She adds conspiratorially. As the barista turns away to finish our drinks, I glance at Kacia. Her hand is still in mine. She’s still smiling. Still smug. I lean in close to her ear.

“Remind me to send out save the dates for our fake wedding.” I murmur. She hums. 

“Only if you let me register for expensive gifts.” She answers without hesitation. Damn it. I think I might be in serious trouble.