He glared, knitting a row of the jumper he was making, as his friend continued to overreact to an obviously UNFUNNY situation. Foxx’s gaze narrowed when Alastair’s right hand began to snake out, reaching towards the tray of freshly baked peanut butter blossoms.
“I will stab you with my knitting needles.”
Alastair popped up with a huff. “So stingy! What are you even doing?”
Foxx’s brow rose. Glancing around at the kitchen, he thought what he was doing was pretty obvious. “Do you really need to ask? I’m baking cookies and knitting a jumper.”
“Multi-tasking much?”
He eyed his friend. As always, he was looking like a full-on model in his navy-blue turtleneck and black corduroys, with his high cheekbones, pointed nose, and gently rounded chin. The navy made his eyes almost look blue instead of light gray. Those eyes were definitely judging. “What about it?”
“Who is the jumper even for? It’s huge…and black. You don’t wear black.”
Foxx’s hands paused for a second, briefly stopping the mindless repetitive motion they’d been going through. “It’s for Harlow, of course. I’d just be baking but I wanted to finish thisandeat freshly baked cookies. Thus, multi-tasking.”
Alastair stared at him quietly in disgust for a moment, before saying, “You’re making a jumper for the man who set up a camera in one of your rooms.”
His friend would not understand his reasoning, he knew that for sure. But Foxx did have reasons. One being that he wanted to wear matching outfits with the human. Well, semi-matching, as Foxx did not wear black, and he was not making pants.
But really, this was the only way to achieve what he wanted. Well, he’d also probably have to browbeat Harlow into the jumper. Which is why it had to be something he made. There would be greater reason to give in with it being made by his own two hands!
Either way, it’s not like he was doing something nefarious. It would be browbeating for good. Browbeating to cement their friendship! Because one couldn’t deny friendship while wearing a jumper the other person had made for them!
“Well…it’s complicated. I have my reasons. Besides, I can’t help it if the old man is an obsessed weirdo!”
“Yeah, your head is certainly convoluted. I feel the need to point out that you knew he was weird before you let him move in. Like, literally, you knew he was a psychopath. How did you think that this cohabitation wouldn’t end up going in a strange direction?”
Foxx glared. “No cookies for you.”
He may have had a sweet tooth, but it was nothing compared to Alastair’s. His friend was obsessed with desserts. While Foxx loved eating greasy, fattening savory foods just as much, Alastair pretty much lived off of sweets. Well, lived in a metaphorical sense… Vampires, while they got some sustenance from food, they could in fact live off just blood, but it would be an unpleasant existence…and require an absurd amount of drinking.
Either way, Alastair loved all kinds of desserts. The man’s kitchen was chock-full of them. He’d eat it all… Well, except things with coconut. His friend hated coconut with a passion. Everything else, though, was up for grabs.
The only problem was that the vampire wasn’t the best at baking, cooking, or anything that required more than a few ingredients. Really, the only things Alastair could make were like grilled cheese, and other simple dishes that didn’t require much skill or…label reading. His friend had this bad habit of assuming ingredients were things without actually reading what the labels said…which meant most of the stuff he made ended up as inedible disasters.
Alastair let out a whine. “That is cruel. I thought we were friends.”
“Yeah, so did I until you sat there laughing at me.”
“Oh, come on, Foxx. Don’t pout. How else could one react? Why on earth would you sit in that box? It was obviously a trap! Like, have you not heard of‘If I fits, I sits’?”
Foxx frowned. “‘If I fits, I sits’? What does that even mean?”
“It’s literally a cat meme. But really, it's more something most cat owners have known for years. Cats will sit in any sized box, container, or whatever, no matter what the size is, as long as they fit in some capacity.”
“Well, I’ve never owned a cat. How was I supposed to know that?!” Foxx cried.
“I’m going to need you to spend at least one whole day per year scrolling on one of the social media platforms, so you can keep up with all the memes.”
Foxx grimaced. That just sounded like an awful time to him. “But that is so boring! I’d rather read…watch a show or movie, knit or sew…just literally anything else.”
“Well then continue to be a cat meme, I guess.”
“I am not a cat meme!”
“Okay, let’s logic this out. You know he likes calling you a cat. So, Foxx, why did you think he put the box in there?”
“I don’t know, okay?! I just thought he was trying to annoy me,” Foxx snapped, tossing his partly knitted creation on the table with a huff. “I didn’t think too much about it! I got distracted by the dumb cat figurine, which I really should have looked harder at… Like it had a whole ass camera inside it.”
