Rogue studies me, expression unreadable, like he’s deciding if I’m worth answering at all. Finally, he says flatly, “Good habit. Might keep you alive longer.”
I bite back a laugh. “Is that your version of encouragement?”
His eyes flick over me, quick and sharp. “Don’t ask for what you don’t want to hear, kitten.”
I should hate that nickname. I should tell him again it’s Cat. But the way it rolls off his brogue does something ridiculous to me. My stomach twists, remembering the heat of his hands on my arms steadying me.
The warmth coming off him is ridiculous, like standing too close to a fire. No wonder my pulse won’t calm down.
I shift, searching for air. “You just had dinner?” My voice is embarrassingly high. “Do you… live around here?”
“Aye,” he says simply. “Ocean Avenue. Down the street.”
My stomach dips. “Oh, great.” I force a smile that feels like a grimace. “We’re neighbors.”
His head tilts, gray eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You sayin’ that like it’s a problem, lass.”
“No,” I blurt, too fast. “No problem at all…”
The silence stretches, weighted. I rock on my heels, desperate to break it. “Well. Enjoy your… walk, I guess.”
“Aye.” He hesitates, gaze cutting over me once more. His mouth curves, barely, like it pains him. Then he turns toward the beach path. “Try not to fall on anyone else, kitten.”
I stand rooted in the cooling air, pulse stumbling, watching until he’s nothing but a shadow against the last light. Only then do I let out the breath I’ve been holding and mutter, “What the hell is wrong with me?”
By the time I make it up the stairs and to the apartment, my pulse has finally started to settle. I unlock the door and step inside, immediately greeted by the mouthwatering smell of roasted garlic and something lemony.
Bri, my best friend, roommate and partner in all things chaos, is in full swing in the kitchen, her dark hair twisted into a messy bun and her scrubs swapped for an oversized sweatshirt. She’s got three Tupperware containers lined up like soldiers, and she’s portioning roasted veggies like she’s competing in some high stakes–cooking show.
“Wow, it must be so great to be a responsible adult.”
“It isn’t,” Bri says deadpan, shoving a lid onto a container. “But I’m done eating crap at the hospital cafeteria. I bought a rotisserie chicken if you want some, it’s in the fridge.”
I open the fridge, and sure enough, there it is, golden and glorious. “Wait… you bought groceries for meal preppingandsomething already prepared for dinner?” I tear off a piece of chicken and pop it in my mouth. “That’s actually genius.”
“Efficiency,” she says, wagging a finger. “I needed to make sure I was done cooking before the newLove Islandepisode drops.”
“Smart,” I mumble around my bite, grabbing another piece before shutting the fridge. Love Island waits for no one.
“Exactly. Now hurry up and shower,” Bri calls over her shoulder. “The drama is about to bless our screens, and I refuse to pause it for you.”
I laugh, already heading to the bathroom. A quick rinse and then my evening will be complete. Chicken, cozy clothes, and reality TV with my best friend. Honestly, it doesn’t get much better.
By the end of the episode, Bri and I are an absolute mess, sprawled on the couch under a blanket, clutching the almost empty popcorn bowl like it can somehow console us.
“Fuck Casa Amor, man.” Bri sniffles, swiping at her eyes with the cuff of her sweatshirt.
“You’re not blaming Casa for what a man was perfectly capable of doing on his own,” I counter, dragging the sleeve of my hoodie across my wet cheeks. “I truly believed in them. Like, believed. And now what do we have? The other two who are clearly just there for clout?”
“Right?” Bri sits up, indignant. “Those TikTok videos were clear as day—they already knew each other from outside. They’re faking it just to win.”
“And the worst part is, it’s working!” I groan, flopping back against the couch. “They’ll probably ride that fake fairytale all the way to the finale.”
Bri shakes her head, disgusted. “Snake behavior.”
“Snake,” I echo, nodding.
We are fully horizontal, picking at the last popcorn crumbs when Bri exhales, softer this time. “Crap day at work too.Literally every patient was terminal. It was just… heavy. I try to keep a brave face, but by the end of the day, it’s like, what’s even the point?” She laughs bitterly. “You know how much I hate grocery shopping, but I went straight there after work. I needed… something to make the day feel less bleak.”
