“Aw, Zef, don’t get mushy on us,” Oliver teased from behind them. “You’ll make Toni cry.”
“Zef’s getting mushy? Oh my gods, I can’t handle that!” Toni shouted from the kitchen.
Sighing morosely, Zef’s expression blanked to one of neutral disinterest. “Do not exaggerate, Oliver. I am simply being a good host.”
“Sandwiches are done,” Toni called, and the group amassing in the doorway dispersed.
“Are you hungry or shall I give you a tour of the flat?” Zef asked as Bryce hoisted all of his bags onto the bed. “Unless you would like some time to unpack…”
“I’d like a tour. Just so I know where everything is.”
They dipped their chin and gestured for Bryce to follow them down the hall. The tour was short, since the condo wasn’t overly large. Zef showed him the bathroom and the linen closet where he could find bath towels and clean bed sheets.
“You have already seen the communal living space,” they said, pointing to the entry and living room. “But here we have the kitchen and dining area.”
The kitchen was open and bright, all the curtains pulled back from the windows to let in the sun. The dining area was more like a kitchen nook with a small, round table and four chairs. A plate of gourmet-looking sandwiches sat in the middle of the table where Gem, Oliver, Liel, and Jude sat. Toni stood next to the kitchen island, leaning against it as he munched on a sandwich and interjected in the conversation every now and then.
Above the din of voices, Zef opened the cupboards and said, “Here is where I keep the dishware. Here are the plates. Here, the glasses and mugs.”
The mugs were arranged in obsessively straight lines, and Bryce resisted the urge to reach out and nudge one out of alignment, for no other reason than to disrupt the perfection. He had a feeling Zef wouldn’t take that well, though, so he stuffed his hands in his jeans’ pockets instead.
After he’d seen everything in the kitchen, Zef led him to the door off the living room. “This is my room,” they said as they opened the door but didn’t enter.
Standing on the threshold, Bryce peeked inside to satisfy his curiosity. The room was slightly larger than his, but it felt more cramped given all the stuff crammed inside it. A double bed had been shoved into the farthest corner, a dresser against the opposite wall beside a door leading to what Bryce assumed was an ensuite bathroom. A desk had somehow been slotted into the space between the foot of Zef’s bed and the wall, and atop the deskwas a sewing machine on one end and an old desktop computer on the other.
“No way,” Bryce said as he shouldered into the room to get a better look. “I had one of these computers as a kid. Well, my family did, but I played Reading Blaster on it.”
Wings vibrating in a low but constant thrum, Zef released a series of odd clicking sounds in the back of their throat as they stared at him with wide eyes. Their hand on the doorknob tightened until their knuckles bleached, and Bryce’s grin slid off his face. Crap, he’d done something wrong.
“Are you okay?”
They nodded stiffly, but their antennas had curled inward, and their wings were still humming.
“Zef?” Bryce said cautiously, struggling to read their sudden tension. “Sorry, did I—”
“It is rude,” they blurted, and his stomach plummeted. “To enter a Mantodea’s bedroom without invitation. I am very uncomfortable.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
He tried to rush out of the room but tripped over his own feet. With a yelp, he went down, nearly eating carpet. At the last second before he broke his nose on the floor, he stuck out his hands and caught himself. His wrists complained, but he’d take that over a nose bleed.
“Goodness, are you alright?” Zef asked, crouching down beside him.
Face hot and humiliated, Bryce avoided eye contact as he pushed himself onto his knees. “Uh, yeah. I’m good.”
Behind Zef, he noticed a walk-in closet beside the bathroom door, propped open and dark inside. For a moment, he thought he caught the reflection of two bulbous eyes staring out at him, but he blinked and the eyes disappeared.
“Are you injured?” Zef asked, rising to their feet as Bryce climbed to his.
“No, just clumsy. Nan says I’m about as graceful as a bull in a china shop, and she’s right most of the time. Just don’t ever tell her when she isn’t. She might wallop you upside the head.” He laughed awkwardly in an attempt to dispel his embarrassment, but Zef didn’t laugh along.
As they hovered in the doorway, they cocked their head and studied him. “I have… questions. What is a china shop? Why do bulls frequent it? And who is Nan?”
“Bulls don’t go into china shops. It’s just a saying,” he said dismissively “And Nan is my grandmother. She saidGrandmamade her feel old, so we’ve always called her Nan. Granted, she is getting on in years now, but she’s as feisty as ever. I swear, nothing but the devil could take her out, God as my witness.”
“Did she make a deal with the devil?” Zef asked seriously. “In exchange for long life?”
Bryce swallowed a laugh. “Uh, I don’t reckon so. Even the devil knows better than to make a deal with Rosalie Elliot.”
