Toilet paper.
I forgot toilet paper.
Fuck.
I shuffle off the toilet with my holey hose around my ankles and hoist my skirt up as I sit backwards on the edge of the bathtub. I let the water run for a few minutes until it’s clear, then splash some on my bottom and crotch to get clean. I scroll through my phone and set up an auto-order from Purchazon for TP, paper towels, and several other must have consumables.
When my booty has finally dried, I pull up my panties and stand, only to wobble on my feet. It’s not even that late, but I’m so pooped. No point in fighting it.
I pull my night bag into the bathroom and change. Stars and moons pants over my shorts I think, since it will probably get cold, and a baggy shirt. I set the girls free, groaning at the freedom my back suddenly feels.
There’s a sharp intake of breathe on the other side of the door and I pop it open. Oscar is sitting in front of it like a sentry and Bastian is meandering around his Bookhenge casually—or in an attempt of casualness. He looks guilty.
My eyes narrow to slits. “Were you peeping on me?”
He points to his eyes and the cataracts flash.
I look down at Oscar and he glances up at me.
“Was he peeping?”
“Muurf,” he grumbles.
Bastian scoffs. “You made a noise. I thought you were”—he shrugs as he stammers—“being attacked by dust mites.”
That wasnotthe noise I made, at all.
“Uh huh.” I pat Oscar. “Good boy. Scratch his scales off next time.”
Oscar leans into the touch and gives a throaty purr.
I brush my teeth as I roll out my air mattress and start the arduous process of pumping it up with the foot pedal. Back in the day when the air pump wasoutsidethe mattress, you could replace it. But with this new-aged tech, they have to put itinsidethe mattress. So when mine broke years ago and I decided that I didn’t get enough visitors to justify buying a new one, I committed myself to this…pumping by foot.
And pumping.
And pumping.
Bastian pretends not to watch, but I catch him smirking. Stupid dragon. I know what he would say, too.Weak little pink flesh needs a bed of air to sleep on. I sleep on the floor just fine.
I scoff as I dress the bed, then flop into it with an ungracefuloof. Oscar jumps up with me immediately, and curls against my side. Seems like he’s pretty pooped, too.
I glance over at Bastian in the near darkness and catch the shimmer of his golden scales between the pillars of books.
If he wanted to hurt me, he would’ve done it already. It’s not as if I can put up any real resistance while awake, why wait until I’m sleeping?
I sigh out the last of my worry as exhaustion takes me, closing my eyes to the sweet oblivions of sleep.
ten
Morning Battles
The air mattress is more like an air hammock when I wake up. Oscar is cuddled up beside me, half pinned between my thigh and the second blanket I bought. I give him a few scritches as I try to open my eyes. They feel crusted together, and sore.
I know I had a strange dream, but it’s fleeting now that I’m conscious. Something about aliens asking for Earth’s best story or they were going to blow up all the coffee shops. It was a good thing they came to me about it. I was going to be the savior of coffee.
I sigh as my mind becomes more alert. There’s lots to do today, and this business isn’t going to start itself.
Step one, I need to stretch out the aches in my back.
