3
The finals were drawing closer, and even though Amanda should’ve been studying, she instead spent her days in a limbo of procrastination and guiltily glances at the statistics textbook. Whoever had made math part of the curriculum deserved to rot in Hell. She smiled. Perhaps Marc could arrange it.
A few days had passed since he stood her up – or well, semi-stood-her-up – and she checked the mail more often than she’d like to admit, but so far nothing. Lucifer escaping sounded serious, but still! At least Marc could’ve sent her some flowers and a written apology.
Amanda glanced at the textbook again. The source of her problems. She held out her hand at the book. Face strained, willing it to catch fire. After several minutes of combustion attempts, she tossed it across the room and fell back on her bed.
A knock came on the door.
“I’m studying!” Amanda cried, hoping he wouldn’t notice how badly she wanted to see him again. But it wasn't Marc who opened the door.
“Then why is your textbook here?” Sarah said and stepped over the book.
“It escaped its stupid cage…” Amanda pouted and propped herself up on her elbows.
“You look like shit,” Sarah said and hung off her winter by the door.
Amanda sighed. She tried to come up with a good retort, but Sarah looked like she was ready to go out. Her cinnamon locks curled around her rosy cheeks, and the dress barely reached her mid-thighs. She also wore heels.
“It’s Monday, where are you going?” Amanda said.
“I’m actually going on a date tonight.”
Amanda rolled her eyes internally. Sarah was a great friend, but she never seemed to get it together and had a new boyfriend each month.
“With who?”
“It’s nobody you know,” Sarah said, a secretive smile tugging at her lips. “Anyway, I just came by to say ‘hi.’”
And gloat about having a date, Amanda thought and wrinkled her nose. “Are you going to tell me about him?”
Sarah sat down on the bed and gave her an excited grin. “Well, if you must know. His name is Ryan, and he has a motorcycle. He’s a bit of a bad boy, but he also works as a nurse. So, like, there’s depth to him, you know? He has layers.”
“A bad boy?” Amanda said.
“Yeah! He has tattoos and stuff. I think he’s part of a gang!” The excitement in Sarah’s voice was disturbing.
Amanda cringed. She knew her friend was about to go on a dreamy tangent about Biker Ryan – how he might be the one, but would perhaps be a bad influence on her – Sarah’s own version of star-crossed lovers and vomit inducing 'Us against the world.’
“I’m also dating a bad boy,” she said quickly.
“You are?!”
“Yeah, he’s demonic.”
“Oh, this is so exciting!” Sarah leaned in and hugged her, choking her with both her arms and her sickly sweet perfume.
“His name is Marc.”
“Like the chocolate bar?”
No, like Marcellixis the King of Hell, Amanda thought and sighed. “Yes, like the chocolate bar and the red planet.”
“This is so exciting!” Sarah said again. “We could go on a double date sometime!”
For the first time of the day, a smirk tumbled across Amanda’s lips. She would’ve loved to see the look on Sarah’s face. Marc wasn’t a double-date-kind-of-guy, but he sure owed her for last Friday.
“Well, I must get going,” Sarah said and hugged her again. “Don’t want to be late for my date! Oh, and good luck on the finals.”
The smile melted away from Amanda’s face as Sarah said goodbye and left the apartment. She glared at the book by the door. Marc would have to teach her some proper demonic curses.
Amanda waddled over to the door, kicking the book on the way. For the fifth time that day, she stuck her head out the door and opened the mailbox. This time, however, an envelope with the familiar skull and red wings awaited her. She’d always assumed that the image just meant that Marc was a hard rock fan.
Dear Amanda,
My sincerest apologies for Friday night and the lack of communication thereafter. A civil war is currently raging across the infernal plains, the skies are weeping the blood of the damned, and I’ve had a bit of heartburn lately. Of course, those aren’t very good excuses for standing you up, but I hope you’ll be able to forgive me. If so, pick a time and day for a new date, and I’ll clear my schedule for it.
Outside is a peace offering.
Yours truly,
Marc