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A/N:How do you like your toast?
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My toast always came out burnt.
I squinted, half wondering if I could just scrape off the black bits and eat it anyway, but really, I knew the bread was too far gone. With a deep frown, I turned and tossed the charred bread into the trash. "Well, second time's a charm," I muttered, more to myself.
"Fenrisúlfr Abies-balsamea Larix Laricina."
I turned at the mouthful that was my birth name—not many people were able to pronounce it correctly. In fact, I could count the people who could on one palm, and most of those people only used my full name when I was in trouble.
"Marissa," I grinned as I stared at the image of my childhood best friend. I hadn't seen her in the flesh for years. I wanted to wrap my arms so tightly around her waist her eyes popped out of her skull, but I hesitated. My lips tugged downwards as I stared at the bare skin of my hands. "I'm not wearing my gloves."
Ris wasn't like other people.
She didn't scare easily.
A huge grin covered her cheeks as she approached and placed out her hand with a quirked brow. I quirked mine in return. And then, I also placed out my hand. I was sure to keep a small space between us, protecting her from my poisonous touch, as we started to do our sacred greeting that almost acted like a makeshift dance...since we couldn't actually shake hands or hug. She moved her hand with a flourish, which I hastily mirrored, followed by some arm and leg movements, and then we nearly tapped elbows before she turned, and I slapped the air above her ass as she twerked and then she dropped it low as I made it rain invisible dollars over her.
