Page 16 of King of Hollywood
“Are you done with this?” I asked, gesturing at the still-mostly-full pizza box.
“No.” Winnie frowned at me, then made a horrified face as I made to grab the box so I could toss it in revenge. She slammed both hands onto it, gently tugging it away from me, her eyes wide. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’m sorry. I won’t chuck shit at you again. Leave my pizza alone, you cold-hearted, chicken-breast-eating bastard.”
I wasn’t actually going to throw it away.
She knew that, I knew that.
We’d grown up where food was plentiful, but that didn’t mean we hadn’t struggled. Neither of us were the kind of people who were wasteful. But still, the threat was enough to cow her.
Ha.
Cow.
Because of the farm. And pigs.
“So. Boy toy.” Winnie waved her new slice of pizza at me as I took my seat and sighed, head tipping back.
“Lord, give me patience.”
“Is he agora-whatever?”
“No. He leaves his house.” I frowned, thinking about Christmas Eve again and how alone he must’ve felt walking the quiet sidewalks of our little suburban neighborhood while parents filled their children’s stockings indoors. Standing on the outside looking in. A voyeur. “Occasionally. At night,” I added, cheeks a little flushed.
To be honest, I’d done a lot of research about this recently as I had wondered the same thing. Felix was wiggling around inside my head, and he wasn’t even trying to. At least…I didn’t think he was.
Maybe he was an evil mastermind after all.
An evil mastermind that crocheted.
How very formidable.
“Seeee and now you’re smiling!” Winnie accused around another mouthful of pizza. I didn’t scold her this time, too distracted by her very incorrect accusation to pay attention. I slapped a hand over my mouth, blushing bright red when she began to cackle. “Thinking about your little honey bee, huh?”
“He’s not my anything.”
“Isn’t he?” Winnie blinked, arching a brow. She looked like me. Though she was a few years older, we shared the same tall, solid build. The same honey-gold hair. The same dark eyes. The same smattering of gray around our temples.
That was, however, where the similarities ended. Winnie and I could not be more different. She was loud where I was quiet. Brash where I was polite. She wore t-shirts she hacked the sleeves off of, and jorts in the summer. She liked pizza, hookup apps, and women with big breasts and colorful hair.
I liked…none of those things.
The only short thing I owned was my temper.
“Is he allergic to the sun?” Winnie joked, only it made sense—and therefore made a poor joke.
“I…think so? It’s odd. I really don’t think I’ve seen him outside during daylight.”
“Haven’t you lived across from each other for like ten years?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” Winnie tapped her lip, head cocking to the side. “Maybe he’s a vampire.”
“Fuck off.” I flipped her off and she cackled, clearly entertained.
“I want to meet him.”
“No.”