A bewildered Trevor and a smug, pleased-with-himself Alex follow me into the carriage house; I just know that if I turn around and peer at the upper windows of The Magick Happens, I’ll see my sister and niece with their noses pressed to glass, cackling gleefully. Right after I texted Trevor to tell him what was happening, I texted Luna, and she had the brilliant idea to run over to Trevor’s with her spare key and grab some of his stuff to stash in my house. The problem is that Alex beat her here, so now she can’t plant Trevor’s belongings where they’ll look natural.
Alex stands in the middle of the room, my lumpy, modestly sized bed perfectly visible from the squashy yellow couch where he will be taking up space uninvited. He appraises my red cabinets, the tiny round dining table with mismatched chairs, the soothing parchment-colored walls with framed botanical posters. Pictures of El Paso, New Orleans, and Minneapolis that Zelda’s sent swarming the fridge. A zillion pots bursting with greenery. Turquoise throw pillows. A stack of tabbed, highlighted books on the limited counterspace, devoted to garden witchcraft. He can’t tamp down his curiosity, nosing inside my fridge and freezer to see what I’ve got in there (vegetables and soups, mainly).
“Make yourself at home,” I tell Alex nervously, rubbing my arms to flatten the goosebumps (which are caused by the rain and nothing else). It’sThe Twilight Zonein here. He doesn’t acknowledge me, conducting an investigation of my nightstand, my board game shelf, even my chargers. When he swans out of the bathroom, half of his mouth is ticked up into a smile that thinks it knows something.
I can’t stand it.
In recent years, I have transformed myself into a character from a Little Golden Book, a country mouse in a flower bonnet who drinks dew from acorn cups, enveloped in my cozy comforts. Which is precisely how I like it.
But Alex’s loaded silences, his probing stare, his smirk, the way he ends certain sentences with an aggravating upward inflection, just sets me the hell off. And that soft creature who’s burrowed deep down into a basket of fluffy sun-warmed clover pops her head up like an angry meerkat.
“What?” I snap.
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing. Not a thing, Romina Romina. You’ve got a beautiful place here.”
My hands curl. “Yes, I do. We do. Trevor and I.”
He juts a thumb at the bathroom door. “Mind if I use your shower? It’s been a long day.”
I mutter my permission, even though I’ve been looking forward to showering myself. As soon as he closes the door behind him, I seize the front of Trevor’s shirt. “This is a nightmare. Wake me up.”
He lightly slaps my cheek.
“Damn.” I rub my skin. “Didn’t work.”
“Try me.”
I slap him.
“Nothing.” He checks himself out in a hexagonal mirror. “Nice slap, though.”
I turn in anxious circles, hands wringing. “What do we do?”
“We make popcorn, obviously! It’s a slumber party. And you’re in for a rough one, sugarbobs. I snore.”
“I already knew that. Hey, what kind of shampoo do you use?”
He doesn’t bat an eye at the non sequitur. “Ro, I’m relieved you finally asked. I use PK’s Perfectly Bright shampoo. Say goodbye to brass forever—this is going to change your life. We’re talking shine that lights you up like the angel you’re meant to be.”
“Not an angel,” I reply reflexively. “Get on the other side of the bed. I told him you sleep on the left.” I pause. “Wait. Maybe I said you sleep on the right side. Bah! I can’t remember.” And Alex willdefinitelyremember. I loathe his computer brain.
“Correction: I sleep in the middle.”
“How about we wait for the lights to turn off, and then you move,” I suggest. “You can starfish all you like on the floor.”
“Listen, you might be the love of my life for the week, but I’m no gentleman. This fine ass sleeps on memory foam only.” He presses hard into the mattress. “Hm. Memory foam topper on junky old springs. I’m going to have the full peasant experience, I see.”
“I’mnot sleeping on the floor.”
“Did I ask you to?” Trevor climbs under the covers, wriggling to make room for me. “Grow up, Ro.”
“Fine, but if I wake up in the middle of the night to discover you gazing soulfully into my eyes, I’ll go get Snapdragon and let him sleep in here, on your face. He’ll suffocate you to death with his love.”
“What a simple-minded little button! Thinking I’d be gazing at youreyes.”
I zero in on his dirty shirt touching my sheets. “Get out of my bed with those outside clothes, you monster.”
“It’s my bed, too.”
