Berries and Greed (Deep Earth Dating, #1)

by Lily Mayne

mating instinct? What fucking mating instinct? Like I was a wild animal who was going to sniff out a particular scent and get uncontrollably randy from it?

I wondered if he’d be so honoured by my mere presence if I told him that just last night, I’d smoked an ungodly amount of shade herb before passing out face-first in the bowl of potato chips I’d been hunched over and shovelling into my mouth. I could still feel the grease and salt on my skin.

“You’ve never had a burger?” He looked back at the compound, now way above us as we descended the hill. His yellow eyes narrowed. “This place is cursed.”

She was bossy, yeah, but she’d only told me to tie up my shoelaces so I didn’t hurt myself, and refused to back down when I tried to give her jewellery worth thousands of dollars for free. God, I was such a loser.

Tofu? Fruit for dessert? I felt a little faint. “Why don’t we order dessert as well?”

“No.” She grabbed my arm to stop me, making my breath catch. “You can still smoke. It doesn’t bother me.” I swallowed and mumbled, “’Kay,” still frozen in place as I fought the urge to lean into her. God, why was I such a slut for touch?

“Yeah, well. I dunno. I guess you make me happy, or whatever.” There was a long pause, during which I wanted to kick out the window, wriggle my body through it and start a new life somewhere else.

I cringed when Beryl burst into fresh tears. Fuck, I’d made it worse. “God, that s-sounds so p-pathetic.” She slid down the wall, and I quickly yanked my leg in so she could lie down. “I’m sorry,” I said desperately. “I didn’t mean it like—Beryl, please don’t cry. You’re gonna make me cry.”

This was okay, right? She’d asked me to hug her. She wanted comfort. This wasn’t me leering at her like a creep and asking, Can I have a hug? Hehehe.

“Well, better… back to work. Necklace,” Greid mumbled with his mouth full, keeping his eyes averted as he raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs. A second later, I heard him trip and let out a strangled, “Ow, fuck.” “You okay?” I called. “Great!” he shouted back immediately.

Was I sweating? Her head was basically in my armpit. Had I put on deodorant? Oh god, I hadn’t. At least I’d had a bath, but then I’d power-walked so I wouldn’t be late meeting Beryl. Did I stink? Should I ask her? No, that would be weird.

“I watched demiurgus porn,” I blurted the moment he stepped into the living room. He froze, blinking once as he processed that. “I—Oh. Um… ’kay.”

“Then they were a total dickhead. I love handjobs, by the way,” he added hurriedly. “Big fan of handjobs here. I think they’re great.”

“I’m gonna go move into my workshop permanently now.” He moved to get up, still wearing the blanket like a cloak. “You can have the rest of the house. We’ll never speak again.”

“No, Beryl, I mean…” I swallowed, wordlessly opening and closing my mouth a few times before blurting, “Do you want to hang out in my room?” I immediately winced. God, what was I, fifteen? Should I ask if I could touch her boobs to really round off the embarrassing question?

“I have a dick, though. Don’t think there’s all that much nuance when it comes to dicks. You could probably just hover your hand over it like a crystal ball and I’d be happy.”

Thank you, God, Drob, Jesus—whoever is responsible for Beryl’s ass.