Blakely chases after me. “Don’t you dare!” she calls out, and when I reach the room, she charges past me and flops on the bed, arms and legs splayed out as if that will stop me from moving the bed.
“You realize I can lift you and the mattress together.”
“You wouldn’t dare shimmy me off this bed.”
“You don’t think I will?”
She shakes her head. “No, you’re too kind.”
“Watch me,” I say as I grab the comforter in one hand and give it a quick tug, dragging her with it.
“Nooooo,” she cries out as I wrap her up in the blanket and deposit her to the side. I quickly tear the sheets off and toss them her way, adding to her entanglement. “Stop that this very moment,” she calls out.
Ignoring her, I lift the mattress and put it on its side, then I drag the heavy-ass thing toward the doorway, only for her to throw her body onto it, sending the mattress into the wall and right out of my hands.
“You are not taking this anywhere.” She grips it like a spider, her expression determined.
I lift the mattress on its side again and wiggle it until she falls off to the floor. I regret it for a second, hoping I didn’t hurt her, but when I see she’s okay, I tug it again. I get it halfway out my bedroom door this time before she climbs on top of it. Only she doesn’t cling to the side. Instead, she straddles the top, grips it with her thighs, and holds on to the top of the doorframe.
“Try me, Holmes.”
“Let go of the door.”
“Never,” she hisses.
“Blakely, I’m not letting you sleep on the air mattress.”
“Well, guess who is not in charge of me? You. That’s who. So I suggest you put this mattress back on your bed and walk away. I have all freaking night and I will not give up, and the minute you leave this apartment, and you’re skating your little heart around that ice, I will be moving this mattress back to your room. I’m relentless and stubborn and refuse to let you win this match.” A smile passes over her lips. “End of discussion.”
I don’t know what it is—her sass, that smirk, or the reverberation of the words I used on her this morning—but it creates a sense of revenge inside me, bringing me to the stubborn motherfucker I’ve been known to be. Over my dead fucking body will she be sleeping on an air mattress.
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine?” she asks, thinking she’s won.
I move back into my room while she hops down from the mattress. I feel her eyes watching me walk into my attached bathroom. I reach into one of the drawers, grab a pair of scissors, and walk past her, headed right for her room.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I remain silent, walking past Sherman, who now has a picture of a cat set up next to him. What the hell is that about?
I’ll ask questions later. I have a mission to accomplish at the moment.
“Halsey, why are there scissors in your hand?” She runs up to me, tugging on my hand, but I keep moving forward. “I asked you why you have scissors in your hand.” She tries to stop me from moving forward, but she’s no match, and I walk right into her bedroom.
“Halsey Holmes, you put those scissors down this instant.”
I step up to the air mattress, cock back my hand, and lean forward to jab just as she throws her body in front of me.
My hand stops just in time. “Jesus, Blakely, what the hell are you doing? I could have stabbed you.”
“You’re not popping this air mattress.”
“Yes, I am.” I move around her, but she moves with me, throwing her arms out and protecting the stupid thing.
Trying to outsmart her, I leap over her and cock my arm back again, only to be stopped by her climbing on my back and knocking the scissors out of my hand.
Because the air mattress is unsteady, and I’m surprised by her attack, I falter in my balance. I step to the side, missing the mattress completely, and fall to the floor, rolling my ankle in the process.
