I scoff. "Right. Because that'll happen."
"Could happen," he says, but even he doesn't sound convinced.
Marie walks in then, rubbing at one eye, her dark hair braided over one shoulder. She's wearing leggings and a long t-shirt that falls mid-thigh. Her scent—jasmine and cream—hits me freshly washed and too bright for my current mood.
"What's this?" she asks, peering at the paper.
"Sleep schedule," Drake says, handing her a glass of juice. His fingers brush hers; he smiles. "Project: Everyone Gets Taken Care Of."
She reads the list, cheeks flushing. "Oh. I didn't know we were organizing that."
"It's not a punishment," Eli says gently. "It's so no one gets accidentally neglected."
"So we can be intentional," Ragon adds.
I don't miss the way Marie's eyes flick to me, like she's checking to see if I'm about to explode.
I could.
Instead, I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at the rotation. Monday I get Drake alone while she gets Ragon and Eli. Tuesday I get Eli while she gets Drake and Ragon.
"It's very fair," I say flatly. "Very equitable. Did you use a spreadsheet to calculate who gets what?"
Ragon's jaw tightens. "I made sure neither of you would feel abandoned."
"How thoughtful. I didn't get a vote."
"You get veto power," Ragon says. "If something isn't working, you say so. But we needed something to start from."
My pulse bangs in my ears. "And what if I veto all of it?"
His eyes hold mine. "Then we try something else. But this is fair. Every night, you both have someone. No one is left out."
"Except it's not the same, is it?" I say quietly. "Some nights I get one. Some nights she gets two. It's not actually equal."
"It rotates," Eli says gently. "By the end of the week, it balances."
"Math," I say. "How romantic."
Drake opens his mouth like he wants to joke back, then closes it again.
Ragon's jaw ticks. "Verena."
"Oh, don't pull my full name out. We just woke up."
"This is not a punishment. Do not treat it like one."
"I feel like it is."
His eyes darken. "Feelings are not facts."
"Thanks, therapist. Your bedside manner needs work."
I take my coffee and stalk out of the room before he can turn the tone of his voice into that quiet, heavy dominance that makes my instincts roll over even when I don't want them to.
I hear him exhale behind me. Drake saying something too low for me to catch. Marie's soft murmur. Eli's chair scraping.
I hate the schedule. I hate that part of me recognizes the logic in it. I hate that I hate that.
