Emerald

PIZZA WITH MR LAWSON

My house is lit up like a Christmas Tree and I feel like Santa but my "elf" is 6'3 or 6'4 and would kill me if he thought I'd compared him to a small pointy-eared mythical creature – mind you as he's the proto-type for a Norse god he can't really talk can he?

Oh god he also seems to have kind of mythical powers – being able to travel great distances in the blink of an eye (mind you he assures me it's all science). Maybe he can also read my thoughts? I'd be dead or at least in a lot of trouble if he could. I cast a shifty eye sideways but he's looking impassively out the window. So I'm safe- for the moment.

I sigh, it's louder than I would have wanted it to be and Loki turns and gives me a sly lopsided grin. He's sussed out that we won't be alone tonight that one – or it looks like both – of my flatmates/ friends, are home. I wonder if the "god of mischief" thing is real – he's certainly the god of snark and inappropriately tight clothing. From some pieces I've read he's the god or goddess of sex (which explains the clothes), a shapeshifter and not a god at all. I'm just hoping he's a good boy tonight whatever or whoever he is.

"Play nicely," I say resisting the urge to sigh again.

"Don't worry Princess Caitlyn of the six families and goddess of the arts I won't embarrass you in the slightest," he giggles jumping out of the car as I motion towards the gate.

"What the actual fuck?" I say to him as he leaves. Actually I was going to say Frig or Frog because I'm self conscious now what with the whole princess thing and my family's uncanny ability to be able to hear things from (literally) light years away but I'm so flustered by the whole "goddess" thing that I'm caught out – sorry Grandma!!! But what the fudge is that my full title? Holy crap.

He's laughing as he opens the gate, so I'm not so sure, but there's a mix of dread and pride as I ease the car down the drive way and down to my car port at the back. The other's must have realised I'd be home tonight and left their cars out so I could get to where I needed to go.

Loki is still laughing as I park and get out. My feet touch the gravel driveway just as the back porch light pops on and my friends stream out at a fair pace for two women tottering in heels.

"Yay the third musketeer – let's get this party started!" Sarah says brandishing a bottle of champagne (probably not her first of the night given the tottering) as she heads towards me. It's been a couple of weeks since we've all been home together and there are a lot of hugs and a bit of jumping up and down and promises of pizza or a night out before I can ask what the hell they are doing here or introduce my travelling companion.

But then I don't really have to say anything because as we are doing the girly greeting thing Loki pipes up and with, "do you want me to grab your bag too Cait?".

Heads swivel like a kid on an office chair as the two girls, one blonde, tall and blue-eyed, one redheaded, tall and blue-eyed, turn to look to see where the low male voice came from. Loki is on his side of the car with the back passenger door open and his backpack over his shoulder. His hair is loose and sits just to his collar, he has a bit of scruff on his face from the days travelling and a couple of days of running around organising said trip and he looks like a god or a bloody male super model.

Funny that.

Jaws drop.

I see the green eyes glint.

Bastard.

Hannah and Sarah swivel their heads from me to Loki and back like those open mouthed clowns at side-show alley. I don't know whether to laugh or be mortified. Before I can do either, Loki's catlike reflexes have him around the side of the car and in front of my friends, extending a hand like he always meets two mini-skirted (half cut) women in Sydney backyards.