When dealing with a demoness, what is there to do?

Mason didn’t realize he had stopped in his tracks until someone shoulder-checked him (granted it was shoulder-to-elbow rather than shoulder-to-shoulder) and called him an asshole. But he couldn’t help it. This particular curveball caught him totally flat-footed. Nowhere in the last four-ish days' worth of demonic chatting had Lilith said anything about this. He thought for a moment about whether it was worth messaging her to try and answer some questions. But really all of the answers he needed were right there on the screen in front of him.

Well, all except for perhaps the most important question. Why? But Lilith wasn’t going to spoil the surprise. Mason would bet his bottom dollar on that. And besides, he could guess what it was. There was really only one difference between the one-armed Ms. Rosso and the rest of his targets. The question was really, why all the song and dance? Why the time constraint? And why was the demoness giving him the hard sell? That had to mean something was wrong, right?

That was also around the time Mason realized that he was alone in a deserted hallway. His feet were a little quicker on the uptake than his brain. They dragged the rest of him across the cheap linoleum as fast as they could. His butt was in his seat just as the bell rang. Mrs. Sullivan gave him an annoyed look, but he was technically on time so instead of chewing him out she creakily got to her feet and started her lecture.

But the nerd hardly noticed the irony that she was talking about Paradise Lost. Instead, his mind spun so fast that the poor, little, metaphorical hamster didn’t stand a chance and was just along for the ride. Not helped by the timer that had appeared on his phone as he ran to class.

Fifteen minutes. He had fifteen minutes to decide.

Mason’s heel bounced rapidly as he stewed. The biggest problem was the awarenesses. Lilith had to know that if she wasn’t careful this would screw him up and completely undermine her desire to keep things secret. But then again, she was a powerful, immortal demoness. Stakes were just lower for her in all this. This was just her porn and by her own admission, the only possible consequence was some annoyance.

Could he really trust her? Well, yes. Obviously. He had. Could he trust her without a hand of his own on the wheel? Maybe.

He glanced down at the phone in his lap. Ten minutes.

Could you hear someone else’s teeth grinding? Mason hoped not. Or else he might be getting some odd looks soon. But he couldn’t help it. Somehow Lilith wanted him to be both more adventurous and more cautious. Which just wasn’t possible. Well, maybe it was if you were a demon (or extraplanar entity or whatever.) But he was just some guy with a magic app.

Five minutes.

There was only one answer. It was just a boring one. He had to use his best judgment. Go case by case and make the best call he could. And there was only really one call to make. It was now or never. Almost literally. So when Ms. Sullivan turned to write something on the board (he couldn’t even guess what she was talking about anymore) Mason tapped accept on the challenge screen.

Not being psychic he couldn’t say for sure, but he suspected Lilith might have been happy with his choice. The subtle rain of confetti (hearts, stars, and dicks) raining down on his phone was his first clue. Mason wasn’t sure if that made him more or less worried. But it at least let him focus on his English teacher’s lesson.

Granted it wasn’t a particularly impressive kind of focus. Just enough to get through class without getting yelled at by Mrs. Sullivan. It was also enough to get him to and through psychology. Which could have been theoretically helpful if (as a random example) you were repeatedly questioning your sanity.

But as he headed towards the gym for lunch (well not exactly lunch but it would be where Mason would be spending his lunch period) his mind entered a sort of foggy trance.

That’s probably why it took him so long to spot her coming. Which was doubly embarrassing given that the two were in an empty hallway. And other aspects made it triply, or perhaps quadruply embarrassing.

For one there was her hair. It always seemed to enter the room half a second before the rest of her. It was a massive cloud of bright red ringlets that clearly had a mind of their own. Not that they flowed. Some hair could, like Ms. Bailey’s or even Yumi’s on a good day. But despite a noble effort these curls more writhed than anything else. The girl beneath the follicle firestorm did her best to tame it. Over the years Mason had seen her try hair ties, scrunches, and those long-toothed clips. But it was all a bit like trying to reassemble a grenade mid-explosion.

There was also quite a bit of “under” underneath it all. This particular girl just barely squeaked past the six-foot mark. (Though all the hair gave more than a few extra inches.) Though it had to be said that a lot of the space beneath her hair was just that, empty space. She was athletic. But unlike Ms. Rosso, the only woman who was definitely taller than her, this girl didn’t really have any excess bulk. Despite her well-toned muscles, her arms, legs, and waist were all long and thin. And that matched her narrow shoulders and hips.

She looked very much like a stereotypical volleyball player. Which was a stroke of good luck given that was her favorite sport.

Of course, not everything about her was long or thin. Her face was full, cute, and pale. Even if she was athletic she had that wonderful Celtic skin that skipped right over tanning and went straight to lobster red. She did have plenty of freckles, though they were fewer and farther between than they would be when summer came. And sticking out more than even the freckles were her vibrant, green eyes.

Granted, pretty or not those eyes were glaring at him. But that was just what he had come to expect with Cassidy Jameson.

And ninety percent of the time that would be about it. A quick non-verbal reminder that Cassidy was one of the very few people still willing to bully him after his growth spurt. While also making it clear that Mason wasn’t really worth her time. But this time she stepped in front of him, with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

This was one of her typical moves. One that would normally be followed by an insult of some kind. Probably something a bit more elaborate than “bitch” or “pussy.” Cassidy tended to use venom in place of creativity, but she could do that without bothering to stop. If she was bothering to risk being late it probably meant she had thought of something a little bit more elaborate.

On any other day, Mason would have probably felt mild (or not so mild) apprehension at Cassidy’s actions. And it would only have gotten worse the longer the two stood there staring at each other. But his burnt-out brain was still moving towards the gym without the rest of him.

“Um… Hi,” He said dumbly. The good news was that the autopilot made sure to shut his mouth after it formed the single word. But only once it had, did Mason realize that he probably should have been sarcastic. Instead, he sounded stupidly genuine and genuinely stupid.

And Cassidy was clearly not impressed. Her already intense frown further scrunched in on itself. She now bore that expression that usually only appeared when someone bit into a lemon that made a racist joke.

“You have to tutor me,” The redhead demanded through gritted teeth. There was a moment of silent stillness as Mason’s brain totally failed to process what his ears just heard. Then there was a moment of mental whiplash as his mind raced back to the proper time and place.

“What?” He said through a flabbergasted half-chuckle.

“You. Dork. Tutor. Me. Geometry.” Cassidy spoke one word at a time grunting like a caveman and making slow deliberate gesticulations to help get the point across.

Mason could only shake his head as he walked away. The redhead wasn’t the worst person in the world. She wasn’t even the worst jock or the worst girl Mason knew. But in the last four years, she hadn’t said a single kind word to him. She hadn’t even said please just now. In fact, casting his mind back, she hadn’t even asked him at all.

But he didn’t even make it a full step before a surprisingly strong hand clapped him on the shoulder and spun him back around. Mason wished he hadn’t winced at that. But Cassidy had managed to clamp down on the tiny handprints Yumi had left on his shoulders yesterday. Well, the handprint and a decent amount of the skin around it.

"Hey!" She said, spinning him around to face her.

"You can't be serious," Mason said with a heavy sigh. But he could tell she was. Though it took her a minute to make that clear.

"If I don't pull up my grades I might not qualify for my scholarship." Cassidy's confession made her face twist into a ****, pained grimace. She even took her hand off his shoulder. Apparently deciding not accosting the guy she was asking for help would be smart.

Without really meaning to, Mason searched her face, weighing whether or not that was serious enough to actually help. And that clinched it. For just a moment he saw a flash of a different girl. One he hadn't seen since fourth grade. A lanky tomboy smiling widely despite her missing front teeth, seemingly unbothered by the more or less permanent bandage on her knobbly knees.

"Fine," Mason agreed, pushing up his glasses and rubbing his eyes. This would lead to many future headaches. "But I'm not doing this for free."

"Of course," Cassidy scoffed with a roll of her eyes. Did she really expect him to do this purely out of the goodness of his heart? "How much?"

"I don't want money." That wasn't totally true. Mason would definitely like to get some cash. But there was something more useful he could get out of this situation.

The skin between Cassidy's freckles turned a rosy pink. She crossed her toned arms and scowled as she pointedly looked away from him. She muttered something that Mason couldn't quite catch. But it sounded suspiciously like "fuckin' pervert."

"Not that!" Mason frantically said. Now it was his turn to blush. Sure Cassidy wasn't unattractive. She was svelte and pretty with perky tits and an ass that perfectly filled out her volleyball spats. But he wasn't going to strong-arm her into something like that. Well, technically she hadn't said no to the idea. And from a certain point of view, she was the one offering…

No. He stopped that train of thought right there and then. That was Lilith talking not him. Not literally (at least he hoped not) but still.

"Look all I was going to say was that I'll tutor you until the end of the year," Mason hastily explained. Cassidy turned back to him with a half smug, half relieved smile. "But! You have to be nice to Yumi and Vina. And anyone else I tell you too."

The redhead hardly seemed bothered by that stipulation. As though she didn't fully embody the stereotype that girls were always meaner to other girls.

"Deal," Cassidy agreed readily. Her easy-going expression fell slightly. She tilted her and raised an eyebrow. "Wait. What about you?"

"I have to spend time with you to tutor you. I figured there's no way I could hold you to the same standard," Mason said with a shrug. There was no way she could maintain "nice" for a whole conversation. But the important part was that Yumi and Vina had one less thing to worry about.

"Oh… Fair enough," Cassidy muttered, tucking a few curls behind her ear. Of course, they popped out almost immediately but she made the effort. "So, uh, I'll meet you in the library after school."

"I'm busy today," Mason said shortly.

"But I have a test tomorrow!" Cassidy probably didn't mean to yell. Or maybe she did, he really couldn't guess.

"And you didn't think to ask me before today?" He said with an exasperated sigh. The first of those headaches was starting fast and strong. His new, lanky pupil was trying to splutter out an excuse, but he cut her off. "Before or after lunch?"

"After," Cassidy admitted grumpily.

"Then I'll meet you during lunch tomorrow."