Those are kittens.
Those aredefinitelykittens.
He’s not—he’snotusing kittens to make porn, is he?
He’s not.
He can’t be.
Except it’s Theo.
And he looks likethat.
He could be making porn.
Oh my god. Hecouldbe making porn. And right now, he’s on the loose.
I dash through getting dressed, then take off out the door.
Where am I going?
No idea.
Where would I go if I were Theo and I wanted to get away fromme?
I’m striding toward the lobby and the gift shop, wishing I had a better idea, when I hear my name.
“Laney!”
I spin. “Sabrina. Thank god.”
Sabrina Sullivan is the embodiment of a caffeinated squirrel, and I adore her. She’s about four inches shorter than me, has a dog back home that’s even bigger than she is, and perpetually wears heels or chunky boots so that we almost line up eye to eye, though we both still look up to Emma. Sabrina and I made fast friends in kindergarten when Annabelle Fitzsimmons refused to let either of us play withherfavorite doll.
Sabrina set us up a play coffee bar instead—she was born in the kitchen of the original Bean & Nugget, unintentionally, of course, but that’s so on brand for Sabrina—and as soon as she gave me my first sip of imaginary cappuccino, we were bonded for life.
She tackles me in a hug and I get a mouthful of curly red hair as I hug her back tightly like we didn’t see each other just last night.
Pretty sure we both feel like we’re headed into battle, though I don’t know whyshefeels that way.
“Sleep okay?” she asks me.
“We had toshare a bed,” I whisper. “And I woke up and he was all,quit touching my thing, and I was like,I’m not touching your thing, and it was just a cover for him jerking off. He says his hand fell asleep, but honestly,who believes that?”
Her jaw flaps a bit before she finally finds words. “Was the bed shaking?”
Now it’s my turn to do the jaw flap.
Was it?
I don’t think it was, but— “Well,somethingwoke me up.”
“Why did you have to share a bed?”
My eyelid twitches. “He broke the pullout sofa and he won’t let me in the other bedroom and I don’t know why and I don’t believe the reasons he’s telling me.”
Sabrina knowseverything. I won’t say she’s a gossip since my mother frowns on gossiping, but I will say she has a gift of knowing when there’s a story, sniffing it out, and sharing it where it needs to be shared for the greater good of all humanity.
So when she wrinkles her nose at me and asks, “What’s in the room?”, I know she doesn’t know either.
