Page 25 of The Best Friend Experiment
“Have some more pizza. The cheese will help.”
“Will it?” He gave her a skeptical look.
“I don’t know. It’s got milk in it.”
“If you say so, I’m doing it.” He grinned at her as he scooped up a piece of now-cold veggie pizza.
Dylan had always done everything she said. No matter what. Even if he knew it was a prank, he still willingly went along with it, figuring the fun would be worth it. His trust in her had always been complete. He’d probably take a bullet for her if she asked.
It scared her a little to think about it. That was too much responsibility. What if she wasn’t worthy of that level of loyalty?
“You know, I think it is helping,” he said as he munched on cold pizza. “You’re a genius.”
Brooke’s eyes skated away from him and settled on a small brown shape peeking out at them from the hall leading to the bedroom.
Her hand shot out and grabbed Dylan’s knee. “Oh shit. Don’t move.”
“What’s wrong?” His eyes widened and he froze mid-bite of pizza. “Oh my god, is there a spider? You know how much I hate spiders.”
“Calm down,” Brooke said in a low, calm monotone. “It’s not a spider. Murderface just came into the living room. Don’t look!” she hissed when Dylan started to swivel his head. “You’ll scare him off. Turn your head really slowly so he doesn’t startle.”
He did as instructed and frowned. “I can’t see shit.”
His glasses were still on the coffee table. Brooke handed them to him.
He slipped them on and broke into a grin. “Oh wow, look at that. He really does have a murder face.”
“I know, right? That’s my angry, fluffy guy.” She loved that stupid cat. It had been love at first sight when she’d spotted him at the adoption event. Who could resist a face perpetually that irate?
Dylan leaned forward and carefully extended his hand toward the skittish feline. “Hey there, buddy.”
At the movement, Murderface froze, his eyes narrowing in his flat, furious little cat face.
“It’s okay,” Dylan said softly. “I’m not gonna hurt ya, kitty. Let’s be friends.”
Murderface crouched down, eying Dylan distrustfully. Then he coughed. Followed by a retching sound.
“Oh great.” Sighing, Brooke got to her feet and swooped up the cat, carrying him to the laminate floor of the kitchen before he could leave a stain on her carpet.
“So does vomiting signal trust or is it a commentary on his feelings about me?” Dylan called out, laughing.
Brooke tore off a sheet of paper towel as Murderface spat up a hairball. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
His mission apparently accomplished, the cat ran back toward the bedroom, leaving Brooke to clean up his mess, as per usual.
“I think I’ve been dissed,” Dylan said when she came back into the living room. “I just got served a burn notice by a cat.”
Brooke snorted as she flopped onto the couch. “He served something all right.”
“This is a good reason not to get a pet. Not a huge fan of cleaning up vomit.”
“Is anyone? It’s not like anybody thinks, ‘Hey, you know what I really love? Vomit. I should get a pet so I can clean up vomit all the time!’”
“Fair point. Although coming from the girl who plays with whale earwax for a living, it loses some of its power.” Dylan leaned forward and flipped the lids of the pizza boxes up. “One piece left. It’s all you, bro.”
Brooke shook her head. “You should take it. You’re the guest.” She already felt like she was going to burst. Full as a tick, as her grandma used to say. It was a mystery how Dylan had put so much food away.
“No, you should have it because you’re more…” He paused, like he was searching for the right word. “Wonderful,” he finished, looking at her like she was some rare and precious gem.
