Page 20 of The Succubi's Choice

“I think Jacquie will be over,” he mutters, his face reddening once more, making him look like he’s spent too much time in the sun. “It’s midterm season.”

It’s always midterm season when you live with PhD candidates, but she lets that slide.

* * *

True to his word,when she rolls out of bed at around noon and stumbles out to the kitchen in her pajamas, Jacqueline is on the couch and surrounded by a pile of papers that would be better suited to a disorganized accountant.

Miri feels astoundingly messy, with her hair in a rat’s nest of curls and probably giant bags under her eyes, but she pulls out the remaining bottle from Lundy and all but collapses at the kitchen table. Copper hangovers are the worst.

“It’s like ninety degrees outside right now, how could you sleep like that?” Jacqueline asks, raising an eyebrow at Miri’s sweatshirt and pajama pants.

Miri shrugs. “Where’s Gabe?”

“Starbucks run.” Her hand drifts to her phone. “Want me to text him your order?”

“Toffee crunch frap with extra caramel.” Miri lays her head on the table and Jacqueline falls silent and goes back to grading.

The only noise for a blessedly long time is the soft shuffling of papers and the gentle scratch of pen against paper, as Miri contemplates what it would be like to slowly expire from her headache.

“Are you okay?” Jacqueline asks, quiet, from her place on the couch. “You look like something died in your mouth.”

“Graphic,” Miri says, tilting her head so she can see her but still keep her head against the solid table. “Any other compliments?”

“Well, Gabe said you were going through something and he’s concerned about you, but I’m not sure if that’s what you wanted to know,” she shoots back, “and that you’re keeping secrets.”

Miri blinks at her, slow. “Good morning to you, too.”

“It’s twelve.” Because of course that’s what Jacqueline focuses on. “I just thought you should know. He’s concerned.”

She has nothing to say to that, so she just makes a face at Jacqueline and presses her forehead back into the table for a long time.

Gabriel strides in with a multipack of drinks and a too large bag of pastries, completely unaffected by the mess that is Miri and the tornado of papers on the couch.

Jacqueline makes grabby hands at the coffees, provoking a smile from Gabriel. “I just read a report where an undergrad called it an ‘A’ axis and a ‘B’ axis,” she says, her voice comically despairing. “How did they get into our college?”

“Luck and money,” he recites back, handing Miri the frothy drink. “Aren’t these like horrendously bad for you?”

“I have to dress shop with Katya for like three hours today, I want some coffee.”

“Your boss?” Jacqueline blinks, because she’s the type to have only professional interactions. “On a Saturday?”

“Better than shopping for funeral clothes.” Cause they did too much of that this last year. “But she’s not allowed to wear a suit to this, so she’s scrambling.”

“And she chose you because....” Jacqueline still doesn’t understand, bless her soul.

“I’m literally her only female friend besides the person actually getting married?” Which is sad, but asking Katya to have a personal life is like asking a slug to walk a mile. Technically possible but extraordinarily odious.

Gabriel snorts, cause he likes Katya in the way he likes most people. “Does she even own something that’s not a suit?”

“Workout clothing,” Miri suggests. “Probably.”

* * *

Katya dragsMiri from high class shop to high class shop in Beverly Hills with the discipline that only comes from making a list and being determined to conquer it.

Katya’s grouchiness at the whole ordeal is the most obvious thing ever, despite looking great in nearly everything she puts on, the dark storm cloud grows beyond anything Miri can control. It follows them from shop to shop, brewing and roiling in the heat.

“You can’t actually think this is productive, right?” Katya snaps after trying to fit into a dress that contorts her shoulder back.

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