Page 5 of You Were Mine

“And here I was under the impression you never listened to me,” Mark deadpans.

I grin and begin setting out the pumpkins on the coffee table. They’re black and purple, not the orange I promised, but I suspect Mark doesn’t really care. He’s never understood my love for Halloween, but he tolerates it without complaint; well, much complaint, anyway. He puts up with me, though, and never acts like an ass when I bring friends around. He even tolerates my yearly Halloween outing where I drag him to haunted houses and Halloween-themed parties at bars around Bluehaven.

He’s the perfect roommate. I glance at him and catch him not looking my way, so I take a few seconds and just watch him. His head is lowered and his brow furrowed as he tries to untangle the lights, his slender fingers like a spider’s legsun-weaving a web. Unfortunately, my poor roommate has far less grace than a spider.

Even the clumsiest of his motions makes my heart race.

“I want a cat,” I say, mostly for a reaction.

Although if Mark agreed to a cat, I’d be over the moon. I had a cat once, but she died my sophomore year of college, and I like the idea of getting another. A soft, fluffy black cat curling up on my lap and purring while I watch scary movies.

“We’re not getting a cat,” Mark says.

“Butwhy?”

“Because cats are evil demons, put on this earth with the sole purpose of tormenting good people,” he replies.

“Rude! You just don’t understand cats,” I say. “They love you. They just don’t tolerate anyone’s crap.”

“I’m amazed you like anyone or anything thatdoesn’ttolerate your crap,“ Mark replies. “Besides, didn’t you complain your old cat used to pull keys out of your keyboard?”

I sit back smiling fondly. “Well, yeah, but it wasn’t because she hated me. She didn’t know my laptop wasn’t a toy, and I managed to replace them all, so no harm, no foul.”

“Then there’s the litterbox, the hair, the smell, the climbing all over me when I’m trying to work. And scratching everything, and I mean everything.”

I sigh and sprawl out on the sofa, putting my head down beside Mark. “You never let me have any fun. Stop it,” I say, reaching up and patting his cheek. “It’s mean.”

My impassioned plea is rewarded with a pile of tangled lights in my face. Ow.

“There. Have fun, knock yourself out,” Mark says, getting up from the sofa.

“Heathen!”

He walks into the kitchen. “Heathen, shmeathen.”

“Bring me a cider!” I shout.

No answer.

I sit upright and, after giving the lights a sour look, attempt anew to untangle them. It really would be easier to just throwthem away, but, admittedly, Mark does have a point. These are perfectly functional Halloween lights, and Ididspend a significant amount of money on them. Still, sometimes, you just have to cut your losses, and these lights are a loss I can easily take. Then, I’ll donate money to some sea turtle sanctuary or something to make things right; you know, balance out the karma.

After a few seconds, Mark returns with two bottles of hard cider. I throw the lights onto the floor and grab one. “Why, thank you!” I say in a sing-song voice.

Mark looks decidedly uncharmed.

“So, you’re still thinking about the hot, naked model, eh?” I ask.

Mark plops on the sofa beside me picking up the tangled lights for another go at them. “I wasn’t until you brought him up.”

“No idea where you know him from, though?” I ask.

“No.”

I hum and take a swig of cider. Is it that Mark really thinks he knows the guy? Or does he want to date the guy? It shouldn’t matter; I know that. Mark can like whoever he wants, as can I. But something about the thought of Mark hooking up with that model makes my stomach lurch.

Yeah. “Something”.

Like I don’t know what that “something” is. It’s jealousy, plain and simple. I glance sideways at Mark again, and consider telling him that I’m jealous. It’d be easy. Just four words:“I’m jealous of him.”

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