“—this whole time?” Jane is asking her companion.
“Yes, precisely!”
Oh no. That other voice…No. It doesn’t belong to Jane’s boyfriend. Absolutely not. The speaker’s way of speaking is decidedly old-fashioned. Not to mention Welsh-accented—and ridiculous. And welcome.
I squelch the shot of happiness that runs through me. Because I can’t be glad to hear his voice; this is obviously very, very bad. I allow myself to slump against the wall, wondering if I can imagine this away. The answer appears to be no, I can’t—so I bang the bedroom door all the way open, choosing the path of righteous anger.
“How!” I cry, announcing my presence. “Andwhy!”
Jane Doe sits in the velvet chair beside my bed, her shapeless chin cupped in a French-manicured hand. She stares with fascination at the top of my bed, where a head with a luxuriant, auburn-red hipster beard lies face up on my pillow, the bedsheets and blankets tucked right up to the chin. Said head doesn’t rest there, silently feigning sleep. Oh no. It’s chatty.
It is—he is—always excruciatingly chatty.
“Bulan!” I hiss.
It should be obvious I’m horrified and angry. Yet Bulan grins over at me with unchecked jubilee. Only Jane, for her part, looks embarrassed. Great. Now, layered on top of my anger sundae is a dollop of guilt for being a bad roommate.
“Sammy, I hadn’t realized your boyfriend was staying over,” Jane says. “I must’ve missed your text.”
Myboyfriend? He’s not my… no. Bulan wouldn’t tell her we were dating.
Unless he did.
I point at him as angrily as my finger will allow. “Since when were you my boyfriend?”
“Since forever, Sabby!” he answers. Bulan’s smile is bright as sunlight, and I glare in its ultraviolet, cancer-inducing warmth. That lying, trespassing head. With Hanry’s and my breakup less than forty-eight hours old, it’s nothing short of cruel.
And the fact that he’s here, invading my precious, paranormal-free space?
If Jane weren’t present, I’d punt him all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge.
But since sheishere, I have to come up with something quick. It’s bad enough Jane thinks Bulan is naked or something. The last thing I want is for her to discover his ruse and end our friendship permanently; to spread an office rumor I’m dating a headless ghoul.
“A juvenile, immature prank,” I say aloud. “That’s why you’re not wearing any clothes, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, yes! That’s it!” crows my grandmother’s stupid head.
Jane gives him a second confused look and stands. “Well, anyway, I, uh, guess I’ll go to the kitchen now. Got to refill my Stanley. I look forward to hearing about your first day later, Sammy.”
“Yep, sounds good,” I say. “Bye!”
Once the door to my room clicks shut, I rip the blankets off. Piles of unfamiliar dirty clothes—presumably Jane’s—have been formed to create the lumpy appearance of a six-foot man’s body. It’s honestly a feat of engineering. Bulan must have dragged the clothes in his mouth and jumped onto the bed with them in his teeth. But I refuse to applaud his ingenuity. How did he even get in here?
“I was telling Jane that I meant this as a fun surprise!” says Bulan, presumably in explanation. “You didn’t warn me she’d come home ahead of you.”
“You aren’t supposed to be here at all,” I remind him. “Now get out.”
Bulan rolls his face into my pillow. He takes on a mournful air.
“I went to all this trouble to visit, and this is how you treat me?”
“You can’t just come visit me.”
“Well, technically I’m not visiting. I moved in with you. In fact, Imoved with you. My crows were hard-pressed to carry me the wholedistance, following those trains of yours. They’re fast, aren’t they? Did you know dragons were once that fast? They were. It’s true.”
This is a lot to take in. “I thought you were going to stay with Mandy.”
“Mandy’s apartment is extremely sketchy,” Bulan says, mostly muffled by the pillowcase. “You should pay her better.”
