Or maybe you just don’t get compliments and don’t know how they work?
How is saying my vagina smells good a compliment? Besides, you don’t even know me.
Want me to get to know it?
I cried out with indignation. Another text popped up.
Let’s fix that. Thursday. After my second lunch break. Eat some pineapple. Makes flowers smell even better
Blocking this number.
Aw, why not? Are you always so uptight?
YES! WITH STRANGERS!
Where I come from, that’s mean.
Where I come from, it’s harassment.
Okay, fine. Your flower smells like shrimp eggs. Happy now?
You’re the most disgusting person I’ve never met.
And yet…here you are. Texting me back. Again.
Goodbye, Rudolph. Enjoy your weird flower fetish.
I never said vagina. You did. Ivy, Ivy, who’s the real perv here?
Still you. Besides, you implied it, and you know it! Bye now.
Stop nagging me, I’m a busy man. Ciao
No further messages came through.
Since my mind was already in operation mode and my body was so energized, I scooted out of bed and showered, yelping a little as I did a few circles under the cold water. Our apartment was quiet; even Amaia’s room had gone silent, without sound or heartbeat. She was probably at the library.
I cast a worried look at Makena’s door. Two steady heartbeats came from inside. Tiziano was still sleeping there. A faint smile crinkled my worried features.
Deciding to make the most of my day, I took Zeus out, saluting Spiky and Gertrude B. Elion’s shrine before locking the door behind me.
Since Zeus loathed people—good boy—I couldn’t just stroll around town, so we headed for the forest that clung to the outskirts of campus. The only noise around me was the breeze interacting with the natural elements. Leaves, tall grass, bushes…
There was something about early mornings. That quiet moment before the herd of people flooded the streets in the morning rush, the doves chirping at first light, the postman delivering letters to every door as he whistled some forgotten tune, and the group of Chinese elders practicing Tai Chi in the park with a concentration that not even the wisest of werewolves could boast. There was a melancholy that the smell of damp earth and pine needles brought, but it paired with the reassurance of freshly baked goods.
The world woke up lazily, and I loved watching it.
I figured it was somehow a feeling similar to the stillness of a late night.
Once, I read that a walk in the dark was synonymous with reflection. At night is when the heart’s beating, the ticking of anxiety, the buzz of the impossible, and the silence of the world are all best heard.
Dreams had time to unfold, but so did nightmares.
And yet, both were necessary.
As Zeus and I hopped along the edge of the forest, my mind snaked to Rudolph. Chills caressed my skin. Must have been the morning breeze. Why was he awake so early, too?
And why did I even wonder that?
