I glanced over my shoulder to see him leaning against the doorjamb, looking contrite.
“Sorry for taking your phone.”
“And what else?” Aly called from the catio.
Josh winced. “And for trying to hack into it.” He snuck a look behind him and then hurried forward, dropping his voice like he didn’t want his fiancée to overhear what he was about to say next. “I just worry about you. I feel like as soon as I moved out, you got distant. Are you sure you’re really okay with me and Aly?”
I sighed. “Dude. Aly and I were never serious. Don’t worry; I’m not holding some torch for her.”
He eyed me like he wasn’t quite convinced.
“You really think I didn’t recognize your tattoos?” I asked.
Josh stiffened, knowing exactly what I was talking about without me needing to say more. Seven months ago, Aly had sent me a screenshot of a thirst trap, the man shirtless, covered in fake blood and wearing a mask, and asked me if I’d consider wearing one for her the next time we hooked up. Which was wild since she’d been ghosting me for two months (I only later found out that she hadn’t meant to, just that her job as an ER nurse had consumed her life).
That screenshot was from Josh’s “super-secret” MaskTok account that he didn’t think I knew about. Since the two of them reminded me of each other—both chronically online, unserious, a little antisocial and fucking morbid—I’d decided to show Josh the text, hoping he’d reach out to her. Instead, he’d stalked her, because he couldn’t help himself, but it turned out she was into it, and now they were insufferably in love.
I patted Josh’s shoulder. “Bro, I set you two up.”
“I knew it!” Aly said, popping her head around the doorjamb from where she’d clearly been eavesdropping. “That night in your apartment when you thanked me for taking him off your hands. You looked so goddamn smug—”
“That’s just his face,” Josh said.
I punched his shoulder.
Aly joined us in the kitchen. “And Iknewyou must have recognized his tattoos.” She wheeled on Josh. “Itoldyou.”
He grinned, looking sheepish. “Can you blame me for hoping he hadn’t? The optics of my account aren’t great.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “The son of a notorious serial killer dresses up like something out of a slasher movie and dry-humps the air to the dulcet tones of Sleep Token? I don’t see anything troubling about that at all.” My tone was bone-dry.
Josh opened his mouth.
Aly got there first. “He’s trying to distract you away from Stella.”
Goddamn it.
“Seriously, dude,” Josh said. “Who is she?”
“No one.”
“She’s got to besomeonefor you to be deflecting this hard.”
I shrugged. “Fine. She’s someone.”
“Do you...like her,like her?” he pressed.
I grimaced. “What are you, in middle school?”
“Well, excuse me,” Josh said. “You just seem awfully touchy about her, and I’m trying to be respectful of your delicate sensibilities.”
“You are the most annoying person I know. Why are we even friends?”
He tried to put me in a headlock. I sidestepped him. He attempted to grab me, but I blocked him, and now it was my turn to go racing through the house, leaping over Fred when he jumped out from behind the couch, all four paws extended, a murderous gleam in his beady little eyes—proof that he was as psychotic as his parents.
I snagged my keys off the coffee table as I passed. “Thanks for lunch!”
“Get back here, you coward!” Josh roared.
