I’m too busy watching a bundle of kittens, all tangled together in a fluffy knot of snoring cuteness. Mixtures of black and white all form the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“No,” Daphne says, squinting through the glass, too.
“But—”
“You can’t,” she says with a little less conviction this time. I bet if I push once more, she’d let me. I press my forehead gently against the cool glass, sighing as one of the kittens shifts in its sleep and lets out a tiny, squeaky snore. “You can’t just get a cat, you have to consult your roommate.”
“Oh, come on. I mean… it wouldn’t be the worst idea, right?” I say, unable to tear my gaze away. “Companionship. Stress relief. Fluffy snuggles.”
“It would absolutely be the worst idea. The campus housing you’re moving into in January won’t let you have a cat.”
“I could name it something cool,” I add, ignoring her. “Like… Frida, or oh, oh, I know, Wednesday Adams.” There’s a pause, and she gives me an exhausted look. “Because that one is all black fur, and it would totally look adorable dressed up as Wednesday.” Oh my gosh, my brain is in cuteness overdrive. It takes everything I have not to pull my phone out and start looking online for costumes already.
“We’re not going in.”
I pout. “But… Wednesday… and-and the cuteness. I promise I’d look after her.”
“No.”
“But I’ve been so sad with everything that’s happened… this would really make me feel better. One small, good thing. Don’t I deserve one of those? It’d be like an emotional support kitten.” I blink innocently at her, knowing I don’t need her approval here, but I also need her not to tell Jay yet, so I need her on my side.
Daphne’s hand drags down her face. “I… you… this is such…” she groans, but I grin wide and smug.
“We’re totally going in,” I say, already reaching for the handle.
Chapter nineteen
Jay
Theplanissimple:shower, dinner, movie. I’ve been thinking about that Thai curry all day. I even remembered to take it out of the freezer this morning, which feels like a major adult victory.
I toe off my shoes and drop my bag by the side table, half on autopilot but also half reeling from the job I applied for before I left work. Her shoes linger where mine used to sit alone. The apartment feels different these days. I like it.
Making my way over to the kitchen, my foot presses into something squishy. When I look down, there’s a ball… huh, weird. I keep on moving, but then I notice something else on the living room floor. On closer inspection, there’s also a thin stick with some frayed ribbon on the end and a few feathers poking out in opposite directions.
I frown, crouch down, and pick it up. The string is attached like it’s meant to dangle. I don’t recognize it. Not mine, definitely not Liv’s, I don’t think? For a second, I wonder if it’s something from a school project, but then, she paints, not crafts.
I glance around again, suddenly aware that things feel slightly out of place. Liv’s purple throw blanket from the couch is balled up in the corner. There are faint scratches on the edge of the rug, like someone’s dragged something across it or dug in a little too deeply.
Was there some kind of struggle? Is Liv in my room? I quickly rush over, and the shower running is the only noise.
The sound of Liv’s voice follows, muted, but it’s obvious she’s talking to someone.
I stand there for a second, holding the stick with the dangling feather, and I’m not sure why the back of my neck suddenly feels warm. Maybe it’s none of my business. Itisnone of my business.
Still, I can’t help but feel a little strange about everything, as well as being a little less certain than I was when I walked over here to check she’s okay. Then her voice filters through again. She’s laughing.
I knock once before I can stop myself. There’s going to be a reasonable explanation for this. She’s FaceTiming Daphne, or her parents… yeah, from the shower, right. Okay, maybe she’s…
The door creaks open a moment later, and she’s there, towel wrapped tight around her, hair soaked and dripping down her back, her skin pink from the heat. There’s a scratch on her shoulder. Another higher up near her collarbone.
She doesn’t look surprised to see me. “Hey. You okay?”
I swallow hard and pull my eyes away from her, scanning the room like I might catch someone hiding behind a curtain. “Do you”—I pause because this is a terrible idea, really fucking terrible—“have someone in there?”
Her expression shifts just slightly, somewhere between confused and amused.
“I heard you talking, but I thought we’d warn each other before…”
