Page 47 of We Can't Be Friends

“But I—”

“I think it would be best.” She swallows, eyes roaming my bare chest. Her apartment is chilly, but the heat coming from her is enough to melt my skin off. “Take the stairs, elevator sucks.” Chloe exits, leaving her bedroom door open.

I lay there. Disappointed.

The clicking of Tucker’s harness and rustling of plastic bags echo. Followed by the sound of her front door closing.

On the opposite night stand, her phone rings. I scoot over, stretching to pull it off the charger to make sure it’s not important, and silence the notifications.

Chloe was right, I shouldn’t go on a walk. My fuzzy head can barely handle the high-pitched stereotypical phone noises.

Her screen lights up with another text.

EMERSON:OMG

EMERSON:Call me ASAP. Are you awake?!

EMERSON: I know Tuck has you up. I’ve dog sat before and know how pangry he gets.

Pangry?

My phone buzzes in my other hand.

LIAM: Wherever you ended up last night, can you find yourself there for the day?

Take it things are going well with Emerson?

My phone shows a new group message.

EMERSON: Chloe likes banana chocolate chip pancakes with no butter and extra syrup

LIAM: Sorry, she stole my phone

I’m not at Chloe’s

EMERSON: You’re a bad liar

Takes one to know one

Does she have mix?

EMERSON: Knew it *kissing face emoji*

EMERSON: Lower cabinet next to the wall

Got it

EMERSON: Depending on how much you enjoyed last night. . . add some bananas ontop

Wasn’t like that

I exit the chat.

Plugging her phone back in, I return it to the spot I took it from.

Chloe isn’t back yet with Tucker and I take the opportunity to snoop around her place. Where I would expect minimalism, black or neutrals everywhere, the place is feminine, as if a garden threw up in here, not me.

A floral bedspread. Pastel silk pillowcases.

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