Then, from the other room, Markie shouted, “PLEASE HOLD, MOTHERFUCKER.”
Zoey and I froze.
The silence that followed felt almost respectful, as though we were both waiting to see if the universe was finished humiliating us.
It wasn’t.
“SYSTEM ERROR. FUCK YOU,” Markie added helpfully.
Zoey closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I’m going to set him on fire.”
I was still close enough to feel the warmth coming off her skin, my lips still tingling from the kiss.
“I think he’s stressed,” I said.
Her eyes snapped open, clearly annoyed.
From the other room, Markie shouted, “TURN YOUR ASS OFF AND ON AGAIN.”
Zoey stared at the doorway in complete disbelief. “He has the worst timing.”
“He’s still adapting,” I said.
She turned back to me, her face flushed, but she was very obviously trying not to laugh. “You’re taking his side.”
“I’m trying to remain objective.”
“You’re hot and kneeling next to my bed. There is no objectivity here.”
That made me smile.
Markie muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “DUMBASS,” followed by a click that carried deep judgment.
I stood and stepped back slowly, giving Zoey space again. The tension quickly reassembled.
She rubbed a hand over her face. “My life refuses to allow romance.”
“I noticed.”
She glanced at me through her fingers. “You’re very calm about this.”
“I’ve been yelled at by worse.”
From the hallway, Markie yelled, “PLEASE WAIT.”
Zoey groaned. “He’s never this active at night.”
“I think he knew something was happening.”
“That implies he understands emotional timing.”
“He absolutely understands emotional timing.”
“I hate that you’re right.”
Despite myself, I grinned. Zoey narrowed her gaze, as though my amusement was personally offensive.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused.
