Page 26 of Don't Go
A soft whimper escaped my lips.
I jumped up so fast my knee hit the coffee table. I hissed in pain and patted myself down.
I glared at him. But he was already asleep.
His head was back against the couch cushion. His mouth was slightly open. His hair was a mess. A man in a suit that probably cost several thousand dollars passed out on my secondhand couch with his shoes still on, and I had just, very briefly, been seated on his crotch, and he had no memory of any of it.
I shouldn't give him a blanket.
Actually, no. What he deserved waspunishment. He didn't deserve a blanket. I should leave him here in the cold of my poorly insulated living room and let him wake up with a backache and an existential crisis.
I stood there.
I stared at him.
Cute or not, he was passed out on my couch, and I had work in the morning.
I walked to the hall closet. I pulled the spare blanket Mrs. Park had made me the second Christmas I’d spent in this apartment. I took it back to the couch. I shook it out. I draped it over him with what I’d say was unnecessary aggression. I tucked it around his shoulders, I straightened, and I told the sleepingman on my couch—quietly, because Bonnie was twenty feet away—"If you tell anyone about this, I'll sue you."
He didn't respond.
I turned out the light.
5.Beau
I opened my eyes to a face four inches from mine.
She was staring at me, and there was a cat in her arms, staring with the same gravity.
The cat let out a low hiss when I looked at it.
I had no idea where I was.
She didn't blink. "Who are you?"
The voice was high and confident. I tried to speak, but nothing came out the first time. The orchestra in my head changed key while I worked on it.
"I'm Beau." My mouth was at half speed. "Beau Cross."
The cat hissed again. She didn't look at the cat. "I'm Bonnie. Why are you on my couch?"
That was a fair question. I had questions of my own.Whose couch, blanket, and ceiling are these?
The light through the window hit me in the face like a personal insult, so I rolled to get away from it. I rolled too hard. The couch ended sooner than I had guessed. I went over the edge, and the floor took my full weight without sympathy.
"Damn—”
She raised both eyebrows. The cat in her arms didn't move.
I put my hand over my eyes, and the light went down a notch, but the orchestra stayed.
She didn't raise her voice. "You didn't answer my question."
I dragged my hand down my face. "I know. I'm working on it."
She tilted her head a quarter inch. "Why are you on my couch?"
I lowered my hand. She was still there, wearing what looked like a school uniform, hair in a ponytail that leaned seriously to the left, water bottle in one hand, and the cat slipped free and landed at her feet.
