That's (Para) Normal

This is not a fish out of water, enemies to lovers romantasy. This is me—a barely functional adult—attempting to live my best life, which consists solely of reading books, eating cheese, and falling asleep on the couch. It does not include making friends with werewolf chihuahuas, meeting a moth faerie prince, or defeating a boogeyman.

When my chihuahua turns into my celebrity crush, it's like a fanfiction come to life. Not my fanfiction, mind you. I could never write the Doliver Talon eating dog food, submitting himself to tiny costumes, or gnawing on chicken feet under my bed without his millions of fangirls going feral. To put it plainly, self-preservation forbids me from upsetting the twelve-year-old masses…

All I've ever wanted is to live in a fantasy world, and, yes, I am willing to sell my soul to a moth faerie prince to make that happen. Which is perfect because after I've accidentally, maybe, kinda, sorta hit one with my car, that's exactly what he asks for. My soul. And a kiss. But we won't talk about that. Because he told me not to. And I'm very good at keeping secrets. (Especially the one about how he flew into my headlights. I didn't immediately blurt that to his chihuahua shifter and vampire cat friends at all.)

He's the current bane of my existence… and the hot monster haunting my dreams. Maybe if he weren't also the single father of one of my students, I'd be okay with the evening jaunts into the skankier parts of my subconscious, even though nothing ever goes anywhere. I mean, a private elementary school teacher has to relieve stress somehow, right?