Page 21 of Jump

“Her. Name. Was. Quinoa!” Hannah claps with each word and climbs up to sit on the arm of the couch. “She was already weird. But then we found out her middle name was Rainbow? Viv! You can’t expect me to be cool with that.”

“She was nice.”

“She wore a dress that she knitted herself!”

“It’s okay to have productive hobbies, Little Miss Cooks All Day and Night.”

“She knitted it from her cat’s hairballs,” she growls. “Quinoa was never gonna last more than a day without sending you insane. Anthony was probably gonna murder you in your sleep. And the next guy, Jared, will likely sit on your couch all day long, play video games, and call it studying. He’ll get cheese dust on your cushions, leave a mess of the kitchen, and turn your home into a battlefield.”

She shakes her head. “This is supposed to be your safe space, Viv. A sanctuary away from the real world. And none of those people are safe space people! So stop letting your ‘society says I have to be nice to everyone’ belief bully you into accepting the wrong person to live with.”

“We’re running out of time,” I complain. “The end of the month is racing toward us, and every single candidate we’ve talked to so far has been booted out by you.”

“Because if I didn’t boot the losers, you’d be living with seventy-three cats and wearing a furball dress! I know you like animals as much as the next woman, but c’mon. Life has to have balance.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” Frustrated—although freer now that it’s just us, and no one else is in my home—I shove up from my seat and start into my small kitchen. Then I open the fridge and peruse its offerings. “I think you’re having doubts about committing, so you’re sabotaging the very real chance I’ll fill your room, because you can’t stand the thought of not being able to come back here whenever you want.”

“Oh please.” She follows me in and steals my soda away when I take it from the shelf. So I reach into the fridge a second time and grab another for myself. “I’m already living with him. I’m there nine nights out of ten—and the tenth,” she cracks her drink open and lifts her brow, “is spent apart, not because of commitment issues or because Axel and I are fighting. It’s because he’s at work, I’m lonely, and I know damn well you’re lonely too. Nothing proves that more than this whole process. You’re so intent on solving this issue for yourself, you’d rather invite anyone in than face the possibility of, gasp!” she places a hand over her mouth, “saying no.”

“You’re wrong. It’s that you love me and don’t want to leave. But I agree, Anthony was probably gonna kill me while I slept.”

“See!” Cackling, she circles the counter and loops her arm in mine, then starting back toward the living room, she checks her phone when it bleats. “I just wanna keep you safe, Viv.”

Setting her drink down and plopping onto the couch beside me, she unlocks her screen and reads a fast text. “Axel’s cooking tonight.” Her smile creeps up with every word she reads. “Lasagna. Yummy.”

“Lucky you.” Petulant, I roll my eyes. “Enjoy your good food. And good sex. And all that other good stuff I never get.”

Snickering, she fires off her response and sets her feet on the coffee table. “Sulking isn’t a good look for you, Vivian Doyalson. It’s pathetic and weird. Besides, Axel would like to know if you want to come over for dinner too?”

“Really?” My heart stumbles in my chest. But it lightens. And gallops. “He said that? Or are you just offering because I’m sulking?”

“His text said, ‘Hey Sully. Hurry home, I wanna fuck.’” She giggles. “You didn’t need to hear that part, but you know me: honesty all the way. Then it said ‘Lasagna for dinner. It’s already made and warming in the oven. Bring Viv. Maybe we can sell her on taking Ruiz off our hands. Plus, I kinda miss her.’”

She stops reading, and smiles. “He really said that, I swear. But,” she clears her throat, “he finished with ‘Rush home. I’m thirsty, and you’re all I wanna drink.’”

“Libido of a prize-winning stallion.” I roll my eyes and tip my soda back. Because I guess I’m thirsty too. But Axel’s night is gonna end more satisfyingly than mine. “How do you keep up?”

“Surprisingly well. He knows when to ask, and I know how to drive him insane. He’s not so stupid that he wants to get laid when I’m working or sleeping. And I’m smart enough to put his dick in my mouth at least once a day. It’s a routine we have.” Her smile grows larger. “It’s a routine I love. Now,” she drops her hand and slaps my thigh so hard, I jump and the sound of the impact reverberates through the room. “Let’s acknowledge that these other idiots aren’t moving in with my best friend. Then come to dinner. Meet Ruiz. And you can be introverted together.”

“I’m not looking for a set-up.” But my stomach grumbles with anticipation, so I climb off the couch when she bounds up, and wander along the hall, already able to taste lasagna on my tongue. “I have no interest in dating your boyfriend’s boss.”

“And I have no desire to set you up, except to get Ruiz the hell out of my home and into someone else’s. He’s still in a dark space with the death of his girlfriend, so trying to hook you guys up would be tasteless and cruel. Besides, you’re so shy, I would literally have to be in the bed with you both. ‘Okay, Viv, put your hand on his dick. And Ruiz, now you say something nice about her. There you go. Good work.’”

She stops in my doorway so I glimpse her in the mirror. But where I look at my reflection and find sweatpants, a ratty AC/DC concert t-shirt, and my hair in a messy bun, Hannah wears jeans tighter than skin, a top that accentuates her boobs perfectly, and her hair is styled like she literally walked out of the salon this morning.

Bleh.

“He’s busy dealing with his stuff,” she continues, “and you’re busy dealing with yours. I don’t want to hook you up with him.”

“But you want to land me with a roommate deep in grieving and, in your own words, in a dark space? What the hell?”

“He won’t kill you while you sleep.” She folds her arms and leans against the doorframe. “He’ll leave you alone ninety-nine percent of the time. He’ll protect you in the case of a house intruder or fire, because that’s who he is—a protector above all else. He probably won’t pick fights with you, since you don’t fight back. He’s not messy or loud. He has a regular job and no interest in playing video games. If he never leaves Axel’s place, I won’t cry about it,” she murmurs. “Because I actually adore the shit out of him. He’s a good man. But just once,” she starts into my room and snatches a low-cut top from my closet, “I’d like to scream while coming, and not feel bad about it at breakfast the next morning.”

“You’re a pig.” But I grunt when she shoves the top against my chest and knocks me back a step. “Not everything is about sex, you know?”

“Sure it is.” Her lips curl into a salacious grin as she reaches up and tugs the scrunchie from my hair. It pulls on my locks as it goes and draws a squeak of protest from deep in my chest, but Hannah is unapologetic as my hair drops free in a curtain and tickles my shoulders as I tug off my concert shirt. “When you’re getting the quality nookie like I get,” she takes my old shirt and tosses it to my bed, “everything becomes about sex. You’re just jealous. But we covered this a few minutes ago: sulking doesn’t look good on you.”

“I’m not wearing this top.” I unfold the one she gave me and scowl at the buttons that go down the front. “This is a club top.”

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