I know I’ve said the wrong thing because Elise’s eyes narrow on me, and I feel like I’m being skinned alive under her attentive glare. “I don’t buy it either, but I’ll drop it for now,” she says, flicking her haunting blue gaze back to Adhira and allowing me to suck in my first breath since their arrival. “Now move over. Apparently, we have a lot of”—she squints at the telly—“whatever the hell this is to watch.”
It’s been over an hour since Adhira’s friends crashed our plans of rotting on the sofa, and I’ve only tried to flee the premises twice. I think those are pretty good numbers, but each time I try to excuse myself, I’m pinned to my seat with four death glares.
I can’t help but peer at Adhira every few minutes, checking that she’s okay. Her voice remains her normal melodious alto, but her lids have grown heavy and her shoulders slumped. She’s been doing better on the nausea front, but it’s day three post-chemo, and she admitted that’s been the worst for her, same as it had been for Mum.
Adhira pushes at the blankets wrapped around her legs, kicking me in the spine as she does. I grimace but hold in the pained sound that accompanies the sharp blow to my back. I twist from my seat on the floor, grabbing at the blankets to help wrangle them off her.
“Everything okay?” I ask as she stands.
“Mm-hm, just using the loo,” she mutters, sauntering off to her bedroom. I keep my eyes trained on her, unable to tear my gaze away because she’s just too pretty, andIam too weak.
The door clicks shut behind her, and the moment it does, the telly flicks off. Silence settles around us, and a shiver races down my spine with the awareness that I’m being watched.
“So, how have you liked living with Adhira?” Elise prods.
I swallow around the sharp-edged boulder wedged between my trachea and epiglottis. “I’ve enjoyed it. The place is great. There’s an incredible pottery studio downstairs, owned by a really wonderful couple, and it’s been nice getting to know Adhira.”
“And from the sounds of it, you’ve been getting awfullyclose. Is that right?” Letty asks, one brow raised.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, hopefully saving me from this interrogation until Adhira returns.
“Sorry, one sec. I need to check this,” I say, fishing my phone out.
Roomie
I need you.
Those three words send my heart galloping in my chest, purely from how nice they feel coming from her. In the same breath, a prickle of anxiety shoots through my gut. What if she’s hurt? Or sick?
Be right there.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket, anchoring my hands on Adhira’s empty seat and pushing myself up. “Sorry, I’ll be right back. Adhira says she needs me. Must be”—I clear my throat, face flaming red—“horny. Or—or something,” I finish, excusing myself and scurrying off like my arse is on fire as their laughter chokes out behind me.
I practically throw myself into Adhira’s room, shutting the door behind me. Her bedroom is both everything and nothing like I expected. I want to stand here basking in it, taking in every detail for a better glimpse into her mind, but sheneedsme, so it’ll have to wait.
I knock on the bathroom door, and it swings open with my fist still raised.
“Hey, you okay? Is it your stomach? Do you need antacids or anything?”
She dismisses me with a flick of her wrist. “No, nothing like that.” She ushers me inside, shutting us in the small space, and I’m overwhelmed by how much ofhersurrounds me. It’s the same layout as mine, but her bathroom has brightly coloured towels and her green robe hanging on the hook, making the space so unmistakably hers. “I have a plan,” she says, drummingher fingers along the edge of the sink like some conspiratorial super villain.
“Oh-kay? For what?” I miss when she spelt everything out for me. Is this how she feels when I don’t give her a straight answer?
“All I want is a bowl of that coconut milk ice cream you’ve been making me, and then to curl up in bed and watch orca videos until I fall asleep. Which means they”—she points in the direction of the living room—“have got to go.”
“Do you want me to go tell them that or something?” I ask, running a hand over the scruff on my jaw as confusion cartwheels through me.
She shakes her head. “No, they already suspect something’s up, and they’ll demand answers if we ask them to leave now. They’ve only been here an hour.” Her eyes brighten. “But don’t worry, I have a plan. You just have to pretend to fuck me.”
My head rears back, eyes narrowing on her. “I’m sorry, wh-what?”
“Come on, princess,” she whines, catching me further off guard with the development of a new nickname. “I don’t need the morality police. I just need a surefire way for my friends to get the hint andleave.Please,” she begs, batting her long, dark lashes at me.
I swear I’m melting into a puddle at this woman’s feet.Cleanup on aisle nine—there’s a weak bastard on his knees.
“Why on earth do you think this is a good idea?”
“Because if I tell them I’m tired and ask them to leave, they’ll know something is wrong.” Her eyes are sharp yet pleading as she pins me with her stare. “Right now, they just know I’m hiding something from them, but they don’t have any idea how bad it is.”
