Page 6 of Wanted Beta

Instead, I plug my phone into the charger and put on an upbeat playlist while I look through my stuff to find my nail polish stash.

Keeping myself busy helps the day go a little faster.

I’ve been in my room for hours by the time I hear Catherine get home.

It’s a little after six p.m. when I step out of my room to meet her in the hallway.

As promised, she has pizza, but it’s just the one box and it looks kinda small for the both of us.

“Hey,” she greets me.

“Please tell me you have more pizza in your purse?” I ask, my stomach starting to grumble wildly at the thought of eating something substantial. “I’ll even take pocket slices if that’s what you’ve got.”

She laughs as she puts her purse down by the side of the door and holds the pizza box out to me.

“Oh, this is all yours,” she says. “I can’t have carbs. I bloat up like a whale.”

I take the box, letting out a sigh as soon as I breathe in the deliciousness.

“Did you eat lunch?” she asks, probably presuming I didn’t get out of bed until after noon.

“I ate,” I tell her, “but you seriously need to go grocery shopping.”

“Let me guess, you were disturbed by the lack of chips and Twinkies in the apartment?”

“If you knew, why did you ask?”

“We can get you some junk food tomorrow,” she assures me. “You think you can last until then?”

“Maybe,” I say, following her into the kitchen. “It all depends how good this pizza actually is.”

“Well, the place is kind of new,” she admits. “But my neighbor Jenny was raving about it.”

“Hold up! You speak to your neighbors?”

She laughs. “We share a laundry room, so yeah, we talk.”

“I kind of thought you moved to the big city so you wouldn’t have to deal with stuff like that.”

She starts taking things out of the fridge while I put the pizza on the table.

“I moved out here for work,” she reminds me. “Finding out I have some decent neighbors was a nice surprise. There are no assholes in the building playing music too loud at all hours, or whatever.”

I pull out a chair at the two-seater table, and I flip open the pizza box while Catherine starts making her own dinner. I have to admit, it looks good. My stomach rumbles loudly, and my sister looks over at me.

“Do you want a plate, or …”

I shake my head, and I pick up a slice.

Two seconds later, that slice has been reduced to a crust.

“Mmm,” I murmur. “This is so good.”

“I’ll take your word for that.”

I usually leave the crust, but this one has a nice salty, garlicy bite to it.

There’s no way I’m leaving a single crumb behind.

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