Seven fallen angels incapable of falling in love. One girl that can keep them from spiraling into darkness.
Used to waiting on others to make a decision, Grey is a waitress at a high-end cafe. That is, until she finds herself lured into a parallel...
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"Grey! Honey! We're going to be late if you don't come downstairs!"
Grey took out her earphones, closing the book that had held her attention for the past few hours. It was so good. Something about assassins and romance. Tossing it onto another part of her bed, she drifted to the closet and lazily chose an outfit. A soft knock rapped on her door.
Her father poked his head in. "Glad to see you're getting dressed."
She smiled halfheartedly, annoyance nipping at her chest. She didn't want to put her book down. She didn't want to get dressed. She surely didn't want to leave the house today. Still, she said, "I am."
He stepped over her threshold, an encouraging smile lifting his tan face. His hair was neatly combed, the scarf around his neck pulling tighter as he crossed his arms and caught a piece of the fabric.
"Come on, Grey. Let's see a real smile." When she didn't budge, he sighed. "You know, your mom and I missed you last night for family movie night."
"Look, I'm sorry. We watch the same seasonal movies every year--,"
He held up his hands in defense. "No need to apologize. You're thirteen tomorrow. You're growing up. Let us just do one last thing with you before you decide to be a cool teenager forever, okay?"
She rolled her eyes, chuckling. "I'm not a cool teenager," she complained.
"Yet. Hold your rebel phase off until tomorrow, will ya? We're trying to take our daughter to a harvest festival!" He squeezed her shoulder and left, a smile still on his face.
After she dressed and fixed her hair, she tossed a scarf around her neck and shoved her mittens into her jacket pocket. Not because she would be cold, but because her mother had matching ones and begged her to bring them along in case they wanted to pick pumpkins. She turned off her lights and skipped down the steps, smile faltering when they laid eyes on her.
Her mother's full lips quirked upwards. "Look at our very own pumpkin!"
"I bet you'll find good ones on the field this year! I want a prize winner that we can carve for Halloween," her father said. He was busy rearranging the dishes in the sink while her mother wiped the dining room table with a wet rag.
"The one we get today won't last until Halloween," Grey said.
Her father shrugged. "Then we get another when October rolls around. Who doesn't want to visit the Harvest Festival twice? It's your favorite holiday gathering, Grey."
"It used to be," she corrected. "When I was eight."
"Oh, Daniel," her mother called her father by his first name, "Remember when she used to do the hay maze and the petting zoo?"
