Then I buried my face in my pillow and sobbed. Quiet, but not pathetic. Never.
Eye mask on and hot panda water bottle on my chest, I put in my earbuds, hit play, and fell asleep with a yoga mantra on repeat.
Inhale Peace. Exhale the world.
Party night. Open invite, the entire campus was buzzing. It was the event of the semester.
Since I had no class the next day and Teresa had offered to cover my shift at the children’s hospital, I decided to join. Against all predictive models, Amaia had agreed to come too.
Were pigs flying?
Tiziano and Makena were in his room, currently waging civil war over his flat iron.
“Careful with thatdevice! You’re melting my bangs!” Tiziano exclaimed.
“No I’m not!” Makena shot back.
“I can smell burning keratin!”
“So why don’t you straighten your hair yourself?”
“I would, butyouwon’t shut up about being the Hair Sha-woman! Expert, my balls!”
I was ready—had been for so long that I’d run a load of laundry and dusted the leaves of my aloe vera, Icarus. I’d also popped downstairs for a drink with my brother and his friends. The wereball crew had ditched us for some frat pre-game. But they’d also promised to catch up with us later.
“Aarrgh! Woman! Do you need to pull that hard?! I swear, you’ve got pincers, not hands!” Tiziano’s voice seemed loud enough to be coming from a megaphone. Which wouldn’t be out of character—hediduse one at wereball matches to alternate between pep talks and death threats.
I leaned against the hallway wall, sipping my whiskey on ice. “You two good, or do I need to call dermatology for a second-degree burn consultation?”
“Tell our diva he has a delicate scalp,” Makena huffed, “like a baby hamster.”
Tiziano strutted to his wall-mounted mirror with half-straightened hair, looking like a K-pop idol who’d been electrocuted on one side. “I look like an IKEA catalog model!”
Makena cocked her hip. “You are very welcome.”
“That wasn’t a compliment!” he shrieked.
“You moved!” Makena yelled.
I unplugged the flat iron as they bickered.
My phone buzzed. I sprinted to my room, smacking my hip against the door frame, a little tipsy.
Ugh, I missed the call.
Unlocking my phone, I actually spottedtwomissed calls from Santa’s reindeer, so I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder while I pulled on one mismatched sock.
There was something like a sigh when he picked up.
“Hellooo,Rudy the Reindeer!” I yelled over the EDM thumping at full capacity. The music was Tiziano’s foolproof technique to prevent Amaia from diving back into her textbook while the rest of us got ready. A giggle bubbled up in my throat as I remembered her irked face. Amaia had been ready for the party way before even me. At the time, Tizzy had still been in his pajamas, with a regenerating mask and cucumbers over his eyes, while Makena had been applying nail polish in her running gear.
The line went silent for so long, I had to check my screen to make sure the call was still connected. “Rudy?”
“Are you drunk, Bunny Doc?” His voice was smooth, rich, with just the right amount of scolding. If his voice could sedate a nervous system, what would mymate’svoice do?
“You should really consider voice acting,” I blurted. “Is my mate’s voice just as throaty as yours?”
A low chuckle sneaked through the phone, with that hoarseness that should be banned. I flopped onto my bed with a silly smile, one leg half on the mattress, one leg out.
