Page 4 of Midnight Mate
Guilt tugged at me but only for a minute. Rudy was my best friend, but he was a terrible roommate. Before we’d lived together, his laid back attitude had been a nice complement to my high-strung tendencies. But now, it meant taking six months to call in a repair or letting the dishes pile for days. Or until I did them. Still, he was always ready to lend an ear or a shoulder—of which I’d needed both lately.
If we bickered more often recently, it was only because he let me take out my frustrations on him.
And his heart was always in the right place.
“Don’t wear the pink sweater with the blue pants,” he called through the door.
I looked down, my mouth open and ready with an argument. When I realized I was putting on exactly that combo, I scowled and peeled the pants off again.
“I’m not,” I yelled back.
Rudy snickered and then retreated up the hall.
Twenty minutes later, I emerged in black pants and a green sweater.
Rudy looked up from the paper and arched a brow at my outfit.
I stuck my tongue out at him, which only earned me the other brow.
“It’s so strange that you don’t have a boyfriend, considering how mature you are,” he said.
“I don’t have a boyfriend because you’ve already slept with all the decent men in town,” I shot back.
“And some of the indecent ones, too.” He winked.
I shook my head and went straight for the coffee.
We read our sections of the paper in silence. Fashion for Rudy; Health and Wellness for me. The tiny town of Midnight Falls was a holdout when it came to things like online news. They still delivered a physical newspaper every morning, and I kind of liked that. Reading it always reminded me of my parents. In fact, there wasn’t much about my daily routine that didn’t trigger some memory of them. Especially now that I’d taken over the business.
Noting the time, I hopped up. After another coffee refill, I grabbed my lunch of leftovers from the fridge and slid it into my dad’s old leather messenger bag. After nearly a year, I could wear it without tearing up.
Travis had said it smelled funny, which still grated on me. Then again, there wasn’t much about Travis that didn’t piss me off these days.
“You okay?” Rudy’s voice pulled me out of a deep reverie.
“Huh? Yeah. Fine.”
He set his paper aside, fully focused on me now. “Uh-uh. You know what fine stands for, don’t you?”
“Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional,” we said in unison and then broke into matching smiles as we quoted our favorite movie line.
“Italian Job re-watch tonight?” he asked as I stood up and grabbed my purse and a travel mug. “I’ll get takeout.”
“Okay, but only if you promise not to shrink me.”
“I’m not shrinking you.”
“Fine. You’re New-Age-energifying me.”
“That’s not even a real thing.”
“Exactly. So stop doing it.”
“I’ll stop when you stop.” Before I could respond, he added, “You can be ‘not fine.’ No, youshouldbe ‘not fine.’ What Travis did—”
“Rudy, do not tell me how I feel,” I warned.
“If you don’t like it, maybe tellyourselfhow you feel. And try the truth this time.”
