ME:
Will Dutch Bros be involved if I say yes?
I watch as the little typing bubble appears, dances, then disappears and reappears. After a few seconds, a message comes through
KHLOE:
I do owe ya one.
ME:
Yes, you do. Did you even finish that monstrosity????
KHLOE:
LOL No. I think I got about 3/4ths of the way before I had to throw it away
ME:
KHLOE:
Anyways, what do you want to drink, and what are we doing?
ME:
Nutty Irishman, obviously, and come over here. I have snacks, and we can talk about boys while watching something cheesy, because Tessa might literally smother me in my sleep if I put on something murder-y.
KHLOE:
BOYS YOU SAY???? DEAL! Give me like an hour and I’m there!
I laugh again and toss my phone gently onto the bed, watching it bounce once before settling into the blanket folds. Max looks up at me and yawns before standing up. He shakes out the lingering sleep, then hops off the bed as I throw my comforter off me.
Time to make myself presentable before the Chaos Queen arrives.
I put inzeroeffort to look decent today. Khloe was about to get the bare minimum from me—overslept, under-caffeinated, and utterly uninterested in pretending I cared about appearances. I was exhausted, and if I wasn’t leaving the apartment, then a bra was absolutely not happening.
I throw on an oversized purple t-shirt—soft, slightly worn, and perfect for a lazy day—and a pair of black leggings. My hair is twisted up into a messy bun with a claw clip, not for style but to keep it out of my face. That was as far as I was willing to go today.
Yawning, I shuffle out of my room, Max padding closely behind me like a loyal little shadow. The hallway opens up into the living room, where Tessa’s voice greets me before I even reach the end of it.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she calls, her tone light and teasing.
I roll my eyes but smirk as I head straight for the patio door. “How long have you been up?” I ask as I unlock it and slide it open. Max trots outside without hesitation, tail wagging like it’s the best part of his day.
Tessa is curled up on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, a steaming mug of coffee balanced in her hands. She’s wearing a pair of black spandex shorts and a burgundy butterfly Sleep Token t-shirt that’s roughly two sizes too large for her. Her hair is braided and draped over her left shoulder, strands falling loose in that perfectly imperfect way she always seems to pull off without trying.
“About two hours,” she says casually, bringing the mug to her lips.
I blink. “The fuck are you doing up so early?”
“Rae,” she snorts into her coffee. “It’s almost noon.”
My brows lift as I blink again, like that might make time rewind. I slide my phone out of my leggings’ waistband and check it—11:52 a.m. Well shit. Guess I got a littletoointo my morning doom scroll.
“Huh. I guess it is,” I mutter, sliding my phone back into my waistband. “Anyway, Khloe’s on her way over,” I say as I lean out the door to check on Max.
“I know. She texted me like twenty minutes ago,” Tessa says, eyes focused on the TV as she scrolls through the endless black hole of streaming options. “Said she’s bringing caffeine and probably gossip.”
