Page 122 of Problematic

She sat there, chewing her lip, clearly trying to decide how hard to push.

“So,” she said finally. “Masked assassin. Very illegal. Very hot. Scale of one to I-need-holy-water, how was it?”

“Sam.”

“What?” she asked. “I’m processing. With important questions.”

I stared at my hands. There was a faint tremor there. Residual static. My neck throbbed in time with my heartbeat.

“Confusing,” I said. “Intense. Possibly life ruining. Also . . . really good.”

She made a strangled sound. “I hate that for you, but I also deeply respect it.”

I let out a short laugh and immediately regretted it because my thighs reminded me of what I’d done last night.

“What else did he say?” she asked. “You hinted there was more than just the world’s worst meet-cute.”

I hesitated.

Do you tell your best friend you are apparently a sex demon with unstable powers now, or do you keep that between you and the assassin who tried to die in your living room?

“Sam,” I said. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to freak out.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s incredibly suspicious.”

“Promise,” I pushed.

“Fine,” she said. “I promise to freak out on the inside.”

“Helpful,” I muttered.

I took a breath. “He thinks I’m a succubus.”

She blinked. “Like . . . an actual one? Not just a girlboss, influencer type thing?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at me, expression completely blank. Then she squealed. I slapped a hand over her mouth. “I told you not to freak.” I felt her smile under my palm. “Apparently that’s why my powers never showed up,” I went on. “They need, you know. Sex. To wake up.”

I released her mouth. “Oh my gods, you mean to tell me you finally got laid, and that’s the on switch?”

“Don’t say it like that,” I groaned.

She dropped her hand. “Did anything . . . happen?”

I thought about my eyes glowing in his phone camera. The way static had rushed across my skin. The way he slumped under me like someone had pulled his plug, then came back swearing and telling me not to kill anyone.

“Yeah,” I said. “Something happened.”

She leaned in. “Are you okay?”

“I feel like I drank a whole pot of coffee and then stuck my finger in a socket,” I said. “He says it’ll settle. Eventually.”

“Define eventually,” she said.

“A few weeks.”

She sat back, then started laughing. Full-on head-thrown-back hysterical giggles.