Page 42 of Only and Forever
Tallulah stops laughing abruptly, fire in her eyes. “Whatdid you just call me?”
I have two sisters. I know the look of murderous fury in the female gaze, and I am well trained to put as much distance between myself and that as humanly possible. I take a reflexive, life-preserving step back, placing a club chair between me and Tallulah, then tell her, “I called you ‘pipsqueak.’ ”
Her gaze narrows. “I willnotbe answering to that nickname.”
“I’ll workshop it. We’ll find a good one for you.”
“We will not.” She folds her arms across her chest, mirroring me.
“Mmm, we will. Nicknames are mandatory for roomies.”
She rolls her eyes, dropping her arms. “I’m beginning to think that’s going to be your excuse for a lot of things, Viggo—‘it’s what roomies do.’ ”
I grin, happy to be in familiar territory, reminding Tallulah I’m just as capable of getting under her skin as she is at getting undermine. Even though I feel a twinge of regret that her gorgeous smile has vanished.
Maybe more than a twinge.
I console myself that I’ve got time to earn it, the next two months we’re roomies, and under less self-deprecating circumstances. I’ll get her to smile again.
“This isn’t a one-way street, Tallulahloo,” I tell her. “You’re welcome to bring your own mandates for roomie life.”
Another laugh leaves Tallulah, but this one’s soft and low in her chest, a little sinister. She sweeps up her purse and walks toward me, flames still dancing in her eyes. “Oh, trust me, I will.” She pokes my chest. “Just you wait.”
I grin down at her. “How long will I be waiting?”
“Twenty-four hours,” she says breezily, strolling toward the door. “I’ll be here, same time tomorrow, ready to move in.” With a pause, she spins, hand on the doorknob. “When I show up, I’d appreciate it if you weren’t stashing any more family members in the closets. I’ve got a lot of clothes. I’m going to need all the room I can get.”
—
“A lot of clothes.” Talk about an understatement. Clothes might just be the only thing Tallulah owns, judging by the fact that she’stwo hoursinto unpacking and she’s still strolling between all the available closets, hanging things up, muttering to herself as she works.
I am not allowed to help. I was told that very firmly, after I brought in the eighth garment bag that was delivered. Tallulah hired movers. For her clothes. I laughed so hard after she tipped them and shut the door, I nearly pulled a muscle.
That may be why I’ve been banished to my living room, forbidden from helping her unpack.
“Sure you don’t need any help?” I call from the couch.
“No!” Tallulah calls from her room. “Lest I be called a preciousprincess again for acceptinghelpin moving my very expansive, expensive wardrobe.”
“I didn’t call you a precious princess.”
Tallulah pops her head out of her room, glaring at me. “It was implied. You laughed so hard at my movers, you squeaked.”
“Wheezed,” I correct.
The glare intensifies. “No wonder you and Charlie are friends. Semantics. All you do is play with words.”
“Tallulah.” I spring up from the couch and stroll toward her, down the hall. “Let’s have a reset.”
“A reset, huh?” She’s clutching a dress to her like it’s a shield, glaring up at me. The iridescent material shimmers, shifting from bronze to amethyst to turquoise, an oil spill spread across the fabric’s silky surface. I can picture that dress poured down Tallulah’s lush curves. The bronze would bring out her eyes; the turquoise, echo her hair; the purple, pop against her golden skin.
“That’s a lovely dress, Lu.”
Her eyes narrow to distrustful slits. “It’s going to take more than complimenting haute couture to make me forgive you.”
I sigh, leaning against the doorway. “I’m sorry, all right? It’s just... kind of adorable bordering on absurd, how many clothes you have. It tickled me that you had all your other worldly possessions contained in a backpack you rode over with, but you needed a U-Haul to move your clothes. C’mon, you’re a writer—you know that’s funny.”
Tallulah arches an eyebrow. Her mouth quirks a little, as if she’s trying not to smile. “I like my clothes, okay?”