I rub my temples, trying to stave off the headache already threatening to bloom behind my eyes. Between the disaster zone that used to be our living room, the four hours (give or take)of sleep I barely scraped together, and the lingering buzz of nerves still dancing under my skin, it’s shaping up to be astellarmorning.
With a sigh, I tiptoe my way across the minefield of rogue popcorn kernels, doing my best not to crush them underfoot. They crunchanyway, of course, and I wince with each step like the sound is personally attacking me. I make it to the coffee table and reach down to scoop up a couple of empty cans, but I barely touch the first one before Max lets out a sharp bark from behind me.
I glance over my shoulder to see him pacing near the door, tail wagging like crazy, nails tapping impatiently against the hardwood.
“Okay, okay, I hear you,” I mutter, dropping the cans back onto the table with a metallic clatter. “God forbid the prince has to wait five more seconds to do his business.”
Max barks again, louder this time, then scratches at the front door and spins in a tight circle like he’s about to explode if I don’t move now.
I give the mess one last glance—mentally adding it to the list of things Future Raelynn will deal with—then head to the door. I grab his leash off the hook beside the door and clip it to his collar, the container of doggy bags clinking against the chain. The second the clasp clicks, he’s bouncing in place, nails skittering on the floor.
“Let’s go, you bossy little shit.” I chuckle softly.
The moment I crack the door, he lunges forward, dragging me into the humid morning.
The air outside is heavy with desert rain, thick with the sharp scent of creosote. It clings to my skin, sticky and electric, as if the storm still lingers in the atmosphere, waiting to crack open the sky again. The sidewalk steams faintly beneath the first hintsof rising sun, and somewhere nearby a cicada buzzes like a live wire.
Max’s tail wags like a propeller as he trots down the walkway, his nose glued to the concrete as he gets to work cataloging the universe. I let him do his perimeter checks—every bush, every patch of damp grass, the utility box that apparently holds dog secrets, until finally, he circles the little strip of gravel he considers his, squats, and handles business. When he finishes, I tear a bag free from the container and scoop it up. Holding the bag between two fingers, I toss it into a trash can as we circle back toward the apartment. The second we’re inside, he’s already pawing at me to unclip the leash.
“Hold on,” I say, fiddling with the clasp.
The moment he is free from the leash, he rockets forward like he’s been shot from a cannon. His destination is obvious before he even hits the coffee table—straight into the Domino’s box.
“Max—don’t you dare!” I shout, lunging after him.
Too late. His snout disappears into the box, tail wagging wildly in proud defiance as he inhales stale pepperoni like it’s gourmet.
“Goddammit,” I mutter as I wrestle the box away with a glare before he can devour the rest of Tessa’s crust collection. He looks up at me with zero shame, licking his chops likehehad a great start to the day. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He lets out a happy huff and trots toward the couch like he owns the place. Which, honestly, he kind of does.
Max hops onto the couch and curls up against the arm while I begin to gather the stray cans. Behind me, the chorus to “Heads Will Roll” begins. Tessa’s alarm clock. It plays for all of ten seconds before it is cut off. If I knew my best friend, she probably snoozed the fucker. Anything for a few extra minutes of sleep.
Rolling my eyes, I grab the last of the cans, balancing them inside the pizza box, and saunter into the kitchen. With my foot,I press on the pedal of the garbage can. The lid springs open, and I dump the cans and crusts into the half-full bin. Then I fold the pizza box in half and shove it in, compressing it and the rest of the trash to make room.
Next, I grab the broom propped against the wall beside the trash bin and return to the living room. Max is standing up on the couch, hoovering up popcorn pieces from the creases of the cushions. I don’t stop him either. He’s making my job easier; besides, I’m rather surprised he hadn’t noticed the kernels before he laid down.
As Max continues cleaning the couch, I start sweeping the pieces off the floor. We barely got to eat the damn popcorn before Tessa threw it everywhere, and if I had let Max out, I probably wouldn’t be sweeping up the mess right now. But Max is a menace when it comes to people’s food. You can’t eat in peace with him around. He will actively try to take whatever you are eating out of your hand. Unfortunately, I have not been able to train that out of him. The little shit learned that habit from his previous owner. So to avoid fighting off my dog, he lies in my room while we eat.
Roughly five minutes pass by, and the living room looks halfway decent. I still have to go in with a mop and some cleaning spray later, but right now it’s okay. Max is back to lying down, snoring like he works full-time. I giggle softly as Tessa’s alarm clock goes off again. It is shut off almost immediately.
“You better not have snoozed that shit again, Tess,” I call out as I make my way into the hall and head toward her room. I press my ear to the door briefly, listening for any sign that Sleeping Beauty has risen.
Silence.
“Tessa Vaughn, I swear to God,” I say, stifling a laugh as I throw open her bedroom door. “Bitch, get the fuck up,” Amusement laces my voice as I glance toward the bed, where alump is buried under a floral comforter, a tangle of fiery red hair peeking out.
“Fuck off,” she mumbles sleepily from under the covers.
“Woman, get up. You’ve been hyped about the first day of classes forweeks,” I say as I stride toward the bed. Without hesitation, I grab the end of her comforter and yank it off in one swift motion. Tessa lets out a dramatic squeal, scrambling to snatch it back but missing entirely. She flops into herself with a groan. “Maybe you shouldn’t have downed half a six-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade last night,” I tease, balling the comforter in my arms like a prize.
An arm shoots up from the bed, her middle finger raised high.
“Right back at you,” I shoot back, grinning when she drops her arm and finally sits up. Through the blanket-snatching commotion, I hadn’t even noticed Tessa’s disheveled appearance. “Tessa, fix your damn shirt,” I say through giggles. At some point in the night, her red tank top had shifted, leaving her right breast completely exposed through the armhole, her nipple perked from the sudden chill. Tessa looks down and giggles before sliding her tank top back into place and smoothing it down. It does absolutely nothing to hide the hardened peaks.
“What time does your first class start, Rae?” Tessa asks as she grabs her round black wire-framed glasses off her nightstand and puts them on.
“Nine, but you know I like getting to campus early. I have this class with Austin, Khloe, and Marlena, and they also like getting there early.”
