Julian: So am I.
Freya: Can we three-way?
Freya: Video chat! I meant three-way video chat!
My head aches as I laugh, but I couldn’t stop if I tried. Sitting up, I hit the tiny camera icon in the corner of the screen. Instantly, it starts to call them.
The first one to pick up is Freya, who is lying in a dark room similar to mine. Her cheek is resting on her pillow, a hand covering her face as she laughs quietly.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she says.
“I don’t know why,” I reply. “I was going to say yes either way.”
Julian’s picture pops up on the bottom left corner so it’s the three of us on the screen. He’s wearing that smirky half smile, half menacing look he always seems to have. Now that I’ve gotten to know him, I know that look means he’s not actually plotting something evil but that he’s just found something so funny he’s unable to hold his usual glowering expression.
“Someone said three-way,” he remarks, making Freya cover her face even more.
Unlike Freya and me, he’s not in his bed but in what lookslike his living room. Behind him, I see a painting that I assume is an original, hanging above his fireplace. I distinctly remember staring at it the night I held him on his couch.
“Obviously, I meant a three-way video call,” she says again, still humiliated.
“Relax, Chef,” I reply. “It was cute.”
“And appropriate,” Julian adds.
Freya giggles again, and it sounds like warm honey. It’s like the sound alone could heal these open wounds on my face and soothe the pain in my head. “I needed a good laugh,” she says.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I stand from the couch and pick up the trash bin from the floor.
She lets out a despondent sigh. “I’ve just been feeling down today. Mercury is in retrograde. My emotions are all over the place, and I can’t think straight.”
“I’ve been feeling that way today too,” Julian adds.
As I tie up the bag to take it to the dumpster outside, I pause, staring at the two other faces on the phone screen. Is it really possible that they are feeling this same sense of moodiness that I am? You won’t catch me attributing this feeling to some planets in orbit, but I like the idea that somehow my misery likes their company.
“Me too,” I mumble.
“Where are you?” Julian asks. “That doesn’t look like your place.”
My picture is so dark I’m surprised he can make out anything. As I shove my keys and wallet in my pocket, I open the front door, taking the trash with me. I’ll have to text Rex when I get home—not that he’d worry about me but just to be considerate.
“I was at my buddy’s house. He helps me out after my fights.”
The stairwell of his apartment is nearly pitch black as I quickly jog down the steps toward the door leading to the street.
“You had another fight tonight?” Freya asks with concern in her voice.
“Yeah, but don’t worry. I won,” I reply, forcing humor into my tone.
Julian joins her in the third degree. “You weren’t hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I say, evading the question.
Opening the door to the building, I walk out on the cobblestone streets, wet from the melting snow that came down this morning. Tossing the bag into the trash bin by his building, I take off toward my own apartment, choosing to walk.
When I hold up the phone to see their faces, Freya lets out a deafening gasp.
“Oh my God, Archer!”
