Somethingabout the giant splayed out on the floor seems familiar. That’s the only reason I’m not currently pummeling him with the lamp in my hands. Well, that and the fact that he’s not actually hurting Gizmo like I feared - quite the opposite, actually. Gizmo is gnawing on his leg like he thinks he’ll find catnip in the guy’s pants. When I heard the apartment door open, I’d been frozen in fear, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling as I imagined a mark wielding psycho with a hatchet charging into my room. It was only when Gizmo fearlessly leapt from the mattress to the floor and charged out into the dark like a fucking rotweiller did I snap out of my fearful daze. The idea of someone possibly hurting my furbaby had me grabbing the lamp and running out to confront the intruder and save Gizmo.
Gizmo’s holding his own, though. Fucking champ.
I shake my head and focus in on the next most pressing issue now that I know Gizmo’s okay.
There’s a fucking stranger in my apartment at two in the morning!
“Who are you?” I bark. “What are you doing here?”
“Seriously?” he snaps. It’s dark, and I can’t see his face, but I can make out his size as he squirms on the floor and catches a bit of the moonlight filtering through the window blinds in the living room. The guy’s a fucking giant! “What are you doing here, and what’s this demon scratching up my leg?”
“I asked you first!” I raise the lamp, making it look like I’m getting ready to bash him. “Who are you?”
“Fuck! We’ve met like two times already! You forget me every single time.” He raises a hand, as if to block the anticipated blow. “It’s Zander!”
Oh! Shit… yeah, I remember him. Kind of. He was a groomsman at the wedding… Right? He was definitely there, and we had that embarrassing run-in at the airport…
“The fuzzball, please?” he practically begs.
I roll my eyes and set down the lamp so I can pull Gizmo off him. The cat doesn’t want to let go of his prey, but I manage to disentangle his claws from Zander’s leg. Clutching Gizmo against my chest, I scratch his head while I glare down at Zander, who takes a moment to clamber to his feet. He towers over me and I can see more of an outline of his face now that I’m not full-on panicking and my eyes have adjusted to the dark. He’s frowning, clearly pissed, but fuck him! He scared the shit out of me!
“Are you going to answer my question or do I need to call the cops?” I growl.
“I’m staying here,” he replies in a low, rough voice as he brushes himself off. “What areyoudoing here?”
“I’mstaying here!” I hiss. “Grace said I could while I’m in Denver.”
He furrows his brow in confusion. “Hold on, Carson said I could stay here while my apartment is getting worked on.”
Realization hits me and I groan. “Fuck! They both offered to let us use this place, didn’t they?”
“I guess so,” Zander sighs, looking as irritated as I feel.
“Well… shit!” I stomp my foot in frustration. “What are we supposed to do? It’s too late to call them and figure out what happened.”
“Look, we can just both stay here tonight and talk to them tomorrow.” Zander runs a hand through his hair and his t-shirt rides up a bit, and I can make out that V that ripped guys get below their abs.
Damn… this guy’s kind of a snack.
“Why are you here?” he demands to know. “You don’t live in Denver.”
“I’m here for work.” I don’t give him more than that. “It’s none of your business.”
“Whatever.” He huffs and raises his hands as if in surrender. “Look, neither of us is in the right frame of mind to figure this out tonight. Let’s just… go to sleep and we’ll figure out what exactly happened in the morning.”
I scoff. “Are you fucking serious? I’m not entirely sure you aren’t an intruder!”
He flashes me an annoyed look before digging out his phone. I watch as he taps the screen and scrolls through something before he shows me a picture of him and Carson. They’re both at a bar somewhere, arms draped around the other’s shoulder, cheesing for the camera.
“Is that enough proof that I’m Carson’s friend?”
Scrunching up my nose, I glare at him. “Fine… we’ll both stay tonight. There’s only one bedroom, though, and I’m not sharing!”
“That’s fine. I’ll sleep in the living room on the pull out.”
“Fine!” I turn and storm back down the hall toward the bedroom, Gizmo still clutched in my arms.
“Keep that furball away from me!” he calls after me.
