Have I just been friend-zoned? Is this what happens when you connect with someone beyond the physical? A year of sending letters to each other, and now, she just wants me to sleep somewhere else? Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed we would share a bed, but after last year’s sex marathon, I assumed it would be the same. I’ll take it, though. I’d take anything she’s willing to give me like the touch-starved puppy I am.
A black t-shirt on, a piece of gum in my mouth, and a quick look in the mirror to make sure I don’t look as tired as I feel, and I step out of the room. Hailey’s still dressed in a tight, long-sleeved shirt practically painted to her body, same as her pants,all in black matching the beanie on her head. Her long hair has loose waves bouncing on top of her breasts as she paces up and down the kitchen. I walk to her, and when she sees me, she tries to walk past me, but I grab her hand, stopping her. I take both her hands in mine and bring them to my lips, kissing them softly before lowering them to my chest.
The air between us is charged with electricity, and I’m glad. So glad. The connection, the inexplicable string tying us together, is still here and intact.
It’s terrifying to know that seeing each other just three times in three years and barely knowing each other means nothing when it feels like this. Like the Earth exploded and the ocean split in half. Like there’s no sound, no time, no space. Like there’s only me and her. People write books about feelings like this.Does she feel this too?
“Hales.”
“Ash,” she whispers in that tone I hear in my dreams.
“I will do whatever you want me to do, but unless someone’s dying, I need you to explain what’s going on.” I pause and search her face for answers I don’t find. “I need to know the situation at hand before I go into it. Whatever it is, you’ve got me, but I need you to communicate, okay?”
She nods and lets out a breath. “My mom’s neighbor has bird contraband.”
I open and close my mouth, turning my head to the side and ask, “What?”
“Oh my God, Asher Hunter. For real?” she giggles. Good, this is what I want to see. This girl is always so worked up, but at least this giggle tells me she is relaxing, even if just a little.
“For real. Elaborate.”
“Can I just tell you in the car? We have a ten minute drive, and we need to go before she’s back home. I’ll explain then, okay?”
I nod, and she pops up on her tip toes to kiss me quickly on my lips. “Thank you for coming. I know you’re probably tired from traveling.”
I nod again. “I’m never too tired for you. Come on. I want to know about the lady and the birds.”
Hailey grunts and hands me her keys. I follow her outside, and we head out in her navy van that somehow screams soccer mom and Hailey at the same time.
“So letme get this straight: your mom’s neighbor has been adopting birds to resell on the black market? And you’re stealing all the birds and taking them back to the rescue center?”
She nods.
“And you’re doing this instead of calling the police because you don’t want your mother, who has adopted birds from her in the past, to get in trouble too?”
She nods again, pulling up to a white, Victorian style, two story house with porch decoration similar to hers.
“You’re a fast learner.” She tries to open her door, but I hold her hand, stopping her. I narrow my eyes at her, and she shrugs.
“You can’t get angry at me for forgetting I’m in the presence of a gentleman when I only see you once a year. Also, we need to hurry so shh.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and just grunt. No reason to argue with her about this. We follow a path around the side of the house, past a row of bushes that look like they’ve given up on life entirely but are still greener than anything you find near me this time of year.
Hailey tiptoes like she’s watched too many murder mysteries and is trying not to get caught. “Is there anyone here?” I ask in hushed tones.
“No. That’s why we need to hurry up.” I try to mimic her but end up stepping on every crunchy leaf within a mile radius. Subtlety has never been my strength. She gives me a look, one eyebrow raised, and I pretend I meant to do it.
Classic distraction technique. Works about zero percent of the time.
We reach the back porch, where the paint is peeling in long strips that flap against the wood like old bookmarks. Hailey crouches, fiddling with the screen door lock, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. I don’t know why that tiny quirk makes my chest feel warm, but it does. It’s ridiculous. She’s basically breaking and entering, and I’m over here finding it adorable.
The door clicks open, and we slip inside. The kitchen smells faintly of cinnamon and bird seed. On the counter, there’s a half-empty bag of sunflower seeds. Hailey points to it like she’s leading a nature documentary and turns around.
“Did you know sunflower seeds are a favorite for parrots, but too many can actually cause obesity? Their fat intake has to be carefully monitored,” she whispers.
“Fascinating,” I whisper back, though what I’m really fascinated with is the way her eyes light up when she shares these facts. It’s like she’s secretly delighted by someone's listening, even if we’re really committing a crime.
We move into the living room, where the first cage sits by a window overlooking the street. A green parakeet tilts its head at us, feathers puffed like a tiny, feathered pom-pom. Hailey coos softly, sliding open the latch with practiced hands. There’s a sign with stats in front of it with a price tag. She motions for me tohold the travel carrier open, and when the parakeet hops inside, she grins like we just pulled off a heist.
