Smitten Kitten

chapter twenty

THE ONLY PROBLEM with storming out of your own house for dramatic effect is that afterward you can't go back, and you have to go somewhere, but sometimes you can't justify the third Starbucks drink of the week when you still owe your cousin sixteen hundred dollars.

Which leaves little options of where to go next, especially when I have like three friends, and honestly, Nat's the only one I actually like. And that leaves me knocking on her door, still wrapped up in Noel's hoodie that smells too much like the man himself to be any sort of comfort against the spring air. There's a lingering knot tight in my throat when the door is pulled open to reveal the disheveled blonde mess of hair that is Nat.

She's rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, a yawn spilling from her lips before anything else. "Vika? Sorry, saw you called, was mid-puking my internal organs out, what's up?"

"What's up? What's up with the fucking fish more like it. How did she even get a fish in my apartment? Did she Mission Impossible her way inside? What am I supposed to do with a fish, Nat?"

Her green eyes widen at the word-vomit that's been rapidly building inside of me on the trip over. Her mouth opens to answer, but then either thinks better or finds nothing to say, and instead she steps to the side and gestures towards the living room. I all but barge through the doorway inside.

Mark's completely enveloped in Nat's pastel pink comforter, cuddled up on one side of the couch and peeking out at my entrance. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes and the uncharacteristic grimace on his face, he's probably suffering a similar fate to Nat. Still, my empathy is short-lived as I dump myself next to him, arms crossed over my chest.

"Your sister is actively destroying my life, Mark. Genuinely taking a massive crap all over it. I'm taking hours after a lunch break at Chipotle proportions."

He sniffs. "Just agree. Your life will be so much easier if you just agree."

I throw a pointed look to Nat, who's collapsing into one of the offset recliners. "This is why you agreed to marry him, isn't it?"

"Well, that and obviously his massive di-"

"Alright, I'm here to talk about the fish, and also I slept with Noel, but that's second to the intruder in my house. Or, Mark's house. My life," I amend with a huff, breath short, an anxious buzzing under my skin.

Nat's unfazed by my dramatics, but arches a brow at Noel's name. "Why are you here, then? Shouldn't you be drowning in post-sex bliss right now? I mean, you're the one that wanted this."

My stomach churns at the thought. Instead, I heave a tired sigh, shoulders tense, unresolved frustration prickling at the back of my neck.

"Cecilia has a key to my house," Mark croaks out for explanation, "There's probably fish food in one of the cupboards. Like I said, just agree."

"None of those are appropriate reactions to what I'm saying here, oh my god. There's a fish that I must now take care of because you," I say, pointing to Nat, "insist on trying to make Mark's mom like you and you," now I'm pointing to Mark, "had to go and have a sister. Both of you, terrible job. Zero out of ten."

I'm swallowing a bitter dryness that's unfurled on my tongue. Dark eyes are flashing in the back of my mind.

There's a split-second where I wonder if he'll follow me where, through the process of elimination and my lack of funds I'm sure he could guess I am, but then realize that the thought is probably mine alone. I'm not even sure if I'd want him to, either. Not that I'm an excellent judge of character for what I want, apparently.