Page 1 of First Kiss with a Mothman

Chapter

One

MORT

Standing on the porch, I close my eyes, raise my wings, and concentrate. It’s time to put my mothman powers to good use. I increase the buzzing that constantly thrums through my body and raise my antennae up. With several rapid flaps of my wings, I send out a message to all the insects in the house.

Leave, or risk the humans squashing you. It only takes a few minutes, and considering the pay rate, it’s a pretty sweet work-to-effort ratio. My college books-and-booze budget should be filled up in no time. If I’m going to be the only mothman in the country―a dude with dark, fuzzy skin, wings, and red eyes―I might as well use it to my advantage. Today, that advantage is work as a freelance exterminator.

Well, more like relocator; I never want my precious insect brethren to be hurt. I’m half-human, half-moth, but I prefer my fellow flying bugs more than people. Humans aren’t always the friendliest, despite the Halloween Wave turning a chunk of the population into monsters and shifters decades ago.

“They love you for what they think you are,” I murmur to myself as I walk to my car. It’s the same mantra I’ve kept to myself all these years, but it still rings true. At least I’m living on my own terms now.

Twenty minutes later, I’m meeting with my client in the hotel they’re staying at. The clearly affluent parents express their gratitude, and I thank them for their patronage. According to my phone, the money hits my bank account while I chat with them, putting a smile on my face. Of course, I warn them that cockroaches likely have nests, so they might pop up again. I’ve warded away the ones who are already there, but I can’t evict the ones yet to be born.

They seem to understand, so I nod and take my leave. Walking through the lobby, I notice golems and ogres are among the employees here. It’s good to know that I, a massive moth-looking dude, won’t stick out among the populace. Creelin, Pennsylvania is probably the most accepting town for monsters and humans living as neighbors that I’ve ever lived in. A lot of that has to do with my monster university accepting human students last year. I didn’t chat with any of them last year, but from a distance, I noticed how some of the human dudes were pretty sexy.

Speaking of which, one bellboy catches my eye before I make it out the door. He’s a pretty White boy, and he doesn’t appear to be weirded out by the fuzz around my neck or my antennae. His flirty smile is enticing, and I haven’t gotten laid in a while. I’m a mothman, but I’m also a gay twenty-two-year-old man; can you blame me for stopping to chat with him?

“Hey!” he says.

“Sup?” I ask, trying to play it cool.

“You’re the mothboy!”

And there goes my smile. I look around and rub my face as my cheeks heat up. It’s been months since I’ve been recognized in the wild. I should have known better; people smiling at me aren’t interested in Mort, they’re interested in my former child star status.

“I’m…I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are! I recognize your face, all grown up now.” He laughs and taps my arm while I flinch. “You’re the mothboy! I watched your show!”

The shadow of my childhood continues to haunt me. I still don’t know how to reply in situations like this. “Um, that’s not…”

“Say the thing!” The dude laughs again and raises his hands. “Say the catchphrase!”

I wonder if the ground will swallow me whole. “I can’t.”

“Mothboy!” the dude says. He whips out his phone, and I can’t take any more of this awful interaction.

“I, uh, gotta go.” I stride out the door, but the bellboy follows.

“My friends won’t believe I met you! Let me call them!”

I bristle and undo my coat. The early summer sky is clear, perfect for a flight. I let my wings out, then swiftly allow myself to take to the air.

“Wow! You’re flying! Hey, will you say hi to my friend?” I don’t dignify that with a response. The dude laughs as I literally fly away from this conversation. He gets farther and farther from me as I head into the nearest forest. I can pick up my car later.

Right now, I just want to be Mort―but some stranger still thinks I’m the mothboy, child star extraordinaire.

The next day, I’m washing the dishes in the kitchen of the house I share with my frat brothers. While I’m not into being loud and drinking as much as the others, I enjoy living here. It’s not too far from campus, and I have the whole attic to myself. I also make sure the dudes clean up after themselves in the common areas, or I threaten to sick a swarm of locusts on them―only half-kidding. I haven’t had to do that yet. And so, I’m cleaning up after myself on this, the first weekend of the fall semester.

“Mort!” My friend Caleb walks in holding a letter and hauling several bags. He shakes his crop of brown, messy hair, and I’m reminded how fit he is. Plenty of students are interested in his lean musculature and greenish skin tone, but he’s definitely more of a bro than anything to me. The other brothers behind him scatter to their rooms, gleefully carrying drinks and other illicit substances. “Mail call,” he announces with a grin.

I try not to visibly wince. The only paper letters I get are from my most recent agent. When Caleb flashes them at me, I read ‘To Mort Rain’ as well as my old acting agency’s return address. I used to dream of getting offers for acting gigs, but executives only wanted me to be the singing, dancing mothboy, not the twenty-something man I am now. So these days I rarely open my letters.

“Just, uh, put them in the basket.”

Caleb nods and places the letters on the cubby next to the fridge. I’ll pick them up later and shove them under my bed to gather dust.