How to Lose Your Dragon (The Immortality Curse Book 1) by Peter Glenn (beach read TXT) 📕

Another roll of Rick’s eyes. He did that a lot. “Ugh, fine. Whatever. Just so long as you change out of that hideous shirt.”

Hideous? It wasn’t that bad. I’d worn worse. “With pleasure,” I said.

The two of us headed up the stairs and out into the daylight. It was a bright, sunny day in Seattle, and my poor eyes burned in the harsh noon light, so I put my hand over my eyes to guard them from the worst of it.

For once, I wasn’t lying. The Seattle T-Shirt Shop was close by. We made it there in record time.

“A t-shirt shop?” Rick said, wrinkling his nose.

I grinned at him. “Hey, they’re comfy and don’t restrict your movement. I might need to fight in one later. You never know.”

Rick groaned, but he followed me in anyway. I took another look at his sad, bluish, button-down shirt and brown jacket and wondered if the guy had ever seen any real excitement outside of last night. Well, by the time this all was over, I was certain he’d see plenty more. I only hoped he’d be up for it.

My eyes quickly scanned the racks and frowned. There was plenty of Seattle-themed merchandise. Sonics T’s, Seahawks gear and the like, but no band t-shirts. At least none that I could see.

I searched through rack after rack and finally found a Nirvana shirt with the lead singer on it. I should have guessed. It is Seattle after all. Oh well, it would have to do. I didn’t have the luxury of going back home and getting a real band shirt.

To the cashier’s credit, he didn’t even flinch when I walked up to him in my dirty rags and handed over a few wadded up ten dollar bills that had easily seen better days. I was pretty sure one of them even had blood on it. But the cashier either didn’t notice or was kind enough not to care.

Either way, a few minutes later, we were on our way again.

Rick side-eyed me a little bit. He obviously wasn’t pleased with my clothing choice, but that almost made it better, in a way. Shaking his head, he said, “Let’s get going already. My car is in a garage three blocks away from here.”

“Sure thing, Rick.” I nodded and started after him.

But about two blocks down the road, my eyes spotted a patisserie, and my stomach let out a loud growl.

Rick glared at me, hands on his hips. “What now?”

“It’s just… can we stop here?” I pointed at my tummy. “Haven’t had lunch.”

Rick rolled his eyes again and sighed, but he relented.

Once inside the shop, my eyes reeled as my senses went into overload. This was the famed bakery Hot Babe’s Goods. They were known all around the state for their confectionary masterpieces.

I saw several eclairs peeking out of the case, and they were calling my name.

“Three eclairs, please.” I told the cashier with a toothy grin. “And two creme puffs. Those are my second favorite. Anything for you, Rick?”

Rick folded his arms and shook his head. “More sweets, Damian? First the ice cream last night and now pastries? Don’t you ever eat anything normal?”

I shrugged. “A simple no would have sufficed.”

The cashier gingerly placed the treats into a plastic box. “That’ll be $16.24,” she told me.

I stuck my hand into my pocket and winced. That would just about clean me out. But it was worth it. One, because my stomach really was hungry, and two, because it would help us out with where we were going.

I placed two more crumpled ten dollar bills on her counter, and she handed me the box and the change, along with a receipt.

“Thank you,” she said with a slight bow and a wink. She held onto my hand for a second longer than was customary as she did so.

I did a double take. Was she… hitting on me? It didn’t matter. I didn’t have time to find out. I smiled back at her, and we left the store.

“Are the interruptions over now?” Rick asked in an annoyed tone.

“Sorry,” I said, giving him my best sheepish look. “We can go to the car now.”

Rick shook his head again, and we went along our merry way. I held the little box of treats under my arm to keep it safe.

It didn’t take long for us to reach the garage and Rick’s car. I gave off a low whistle when I saw it. It was a silver sporty number with a spoiler on the back.

“Mercedes,” I said. “Nice choice.”

“Yeah, well it’s an older model, and I got a good deal on it, but it’s still my baby. Just don’t get any of your ‘lunch’ on the interior,” Rick muttered, scowling.

I winced a little but nodded.

Without further ado, we piled into the car and got going. It didn’t take very long before I heard Rick grumbling again.

“We’re gonna need gas if we’re gonna reach Canada,” he told me. “Hang on a minute.”

He pulled into a nearby station and stopped the car, then looked expectantly at me.

“Change your mind about the eclairs?”

“Ugh, no. I need your card so I can buy gas.”

My blood chilled. The gig was up. I was had. It had been fun while it lasted.

“Umm… it’s your car, right? So you should pay for it,” I insisted, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“But it’s your friend we’re saving. So you should pay.”

“True…” The guy had a good point, there. My mind raced. I had to think of something fast. “It’s just I, uh… I left my card back at my apartment.” I flashed him a pained smile.

That part was true. The fact that I had about twelve dollars on it was also true, but not really the point.

Rick scowled. “Fine.” He threw up his hands in disgust. “I’ll pay this time. But I’m adding it to what you owe me.”

“Fine.” I spat back. I harrumphed and averted my gaze. Not my best