When I looked back up, Chesteria was smirking into her cup like it was honey-sweet validation.
“I still don’t get the big deal,” Adrian said, arms folded. “We all grown. We can make up under some covers and blame it on the altitude. Sex be hittin’ different at high elevations.”
Chesteria turned, voice cool. “Exactly. We’regrown… grown enough to know grown people lie, sneak, and touch things that don’t belong to them when the lights go out. So separate rooms… permanently!”
I nodded. “I agree. One person per room. No sneaky link ups. No sliding across the hall like you forgot your charger. Handle yourself… and I mean thatliterally.”
“Whatever. I’m sleeping wherever I want,” Isis mumbled.
“Then sleep in the car,” I said, standing. “Ain’t no drama in there, just quiet and regret.” I clapped my hands once. “Aight, now y’all got shelter, running water, and heat. Be grateful, ’cause if it was just me and Chesteria, we’d be posted up eating stew, playin’ spades, and not hearing y’all voices ‘til next week.”
Chesteria nodded like my backup dancer. “Straight facts.”
I shifted my focus toward Isis, already bracing myself. “Isis, I’m getting the room you’re in back. So let me assign you to your new temporary housingbeforeyou start doing dumb shit like claiming rooms based on the color scheme. Follow me!”
As expected, she folded her arms and stood like I’d just threatened to take away her inheritance.
“Ugh! Who’s gonna help me move my things out of there?! I have a lot, you know! Like… alot lot!”
I kept walking. “Pack light, then. It’s not a forever home; it’s a relocation.”
There were nine bedrooms total in the cabin. And while I had plenty of options, I knewexactlywhere she was going—my personal punishment suite. I called it theDiva Dungeon. Why? Because it would strip Isis of all the superficial things that made her think she wasthat girl. The room was located at the far right side of the hallway, the last door before the end. It was quiet, isolated, and as humble as could be.
I pushed it open dramatically. “This you.”
Isis stepped inside like she was entering a crime scene, her expression a mix of confusion and distaste. She blinked a few times, then turned around slowly, like a glitching Barbie doll struggling to find her footing.
“W-What is this?” she demanded, her voice rising incredulously.
I leaned against the wall with my arms folded. “Your room,” I answered, adopting a casual shrug.
“There’s no mirror… or plug by the bed!” Isis huffed, scanning the bare walls like either would appear if she wished hard enough.
“And?” I commented, completely unbothered. “You can use this time to get reacquainted with your natural glow and battery-free personality.”
Isis began pacing the room. Her hands traced the rough texture of the walls, she flicked the light switch repeatedly and yanked open the closet door like she was searching for hidden cameras or, perhaps, a way out.
“You can’t be serious! There’s atwinbed in here, Bryce… atwin bed!What am I supposed to do with this?!” Her voicewas laced with disbelief, like I had committed an unspeakable offense.
I shrugged, calm as hell. “Lie down, think about your choices, cry a little… then get over it.”
Isis stomped across the room like a toddler with a vengeance and jabbed the mattress with one finger like it had insulted her personally.
“This is so disrespectful!” Her cheeks redden with indignation.
“Isis, you’ll live. You act like I threw you in a tent with wolves. You got four walls, heat, and a door that locks. This is luxury, considering the energy you brought in here.”
I pointed toward the hallway, tone sharp.
“That’s the quiet zone. If you walk through there after midnight being loud, just know you volunteering to shovel snow and re-stack firewood… in a bonnet… on camera…for my peace of mind and my followers.” I leaned in, voice low and final. “So move your stuff outquietly.”
Isis opened her mouth like she had a comeback, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction. I walked out, letting the door close on her ego and whatever fake outrage she wanted to stew in. Her silence followed me down the stairs like a sulky echo, and I welcomed it.
The warmth from the fireplace hit first. Then that faint vanilla smell that always seemed to cling to Chesteria when she was baking or got in her feelings. She was curled up on the couch with her legs tucked and head tilted toward the ceiling like she was deep in thought. She didn’t glance my way at first, but her voice cut clean through the quiet.
“That didn’t sound like it went well.”
“It didn’t… for her, that is. But she’ll be aight.”
