She laughs.
Actually laughs.
And the sound does something annoying to my chest. Something warm and fluttering that I aggressively do not want to examine.
"I do not even know five people," she says, and there is a bitter edge to her amusement that I was not expecting. "Let alone have an emergency contact. So storage is not exactly a concern."
She does not know five people?
She does not have an emergency contact?
I frown, processing this information. Trying to reconcile the confident, sharp-tongued woman in front of me with someone who apparently has no one to call in case of emergency. No support system. No safety net.
That is actually kind of sad.
Not that I care. I do not care. Her social isolation is not my problem.
Etienne tilts his head, those storm-blue eyes soft with something that looks dangerously like concern.
"Well," he says slowly, "you will need our numbers, will you not? Since we are roommates."
Mabeline blinks.
Looks at him.
Looks at Cal.
Looks, briefly and reluctantly, at me.
"Uh..." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly uncertain. "I mean... you guys want my number?"
The question hangs in the air like a challenge. Or maybe like a test. Like she is waiting to see which way the verdict will fall.
Silence stretches between the four of us.
Uncomfortable silence.
The kind of silence that makes you acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat, every microscopic shift in the atmosphere.
Say something. Someone say something. This is painful.
Miss Phillip clears her throat, breaking the tension with the practiced ease of someone who has refereed too many awkward situations to count.
"It would be good if you all exchanged numbers," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You are roommates, after all. There will be scheduling conflicts, shared responsibilities, emergencies. Having each other's contact information is practical."
Practical.
Right.
Because that is what this is. A practical arrangement. Nothing more.
Cal and Etienne exchange a look. One of those loaded, silent conversations that packmates develop over years of proximity. I can read it easily enough.
Should we?
Obviously we should.
What about Rafe?
