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I shrug. "It's not the first time."
"On a Friday," she adds.
An inkling of jealousy shoves its way into my heart, and I hate it when I realize she's right. There's no way the Hayden I've known my whole life is at work this late, and not picking up some gorgeous model at a bar. He's probably already driving back to her place.
"I'm not his real girlfriend."
Wrong answer! my common sense bellows. How 'bout next time, go with a simple "I don't care."
Mei folds her arms. "That may be true, but I'm not letting my best friend date a liar. Even if it's fake."
I chuckle, hoping she doesn't hear my sadness. "I think you're a little too late."
"Maybe... Although, his lie does buy us some valuable time."
I arch a brow, noting the mischievous grin spreading along her lips. "For what, to play dress up?"
"No, silly... Time to snoop."
"Mei... Mei!" I hiss anxiously, watching her fling back drawer after drawer inside Hayden's home office, only to find them empty. "We've looked long enough."
"Not quite."
She speeds out of the office, which I just now discovered in the last thirty minutes. Same with the poker lounge, another room with a stripper pole and red-leather couches, and a small library, all easy to overlook in the twenty-thousand-foot penthouse.
"I'm serious!"
I trail behind her, my sore calves burning with each step, as worry drips from my teeth. I'm a rule-follower, through and through. Always have been, always will be. And while I do live here, and have the right to go wherever I please, this feels wrong.
"He could be back any minute," I warn.
Mei swings a left, leaving my words in the dust. Clearly, none of our discoveries have scratched her detective itch.
"What are you even looking for?"
"I don't know, but there's something here. I can feel it."
What'd I say? She's turning into Sherlock Holmes.
Like a treasure hunter in search of hidden artifacts, Mei zooms up the winding staircase, down several corridors, through the gigantic ballroom, and halts beside a flappy door with a circular window. Similar to the one at our work, but much fancier.
"Where's this lead off to?" she asks.
"The service wing."
Curiosity sparks in her eyes, as she makes for the door—
"It's just as empty as the ballroom."
"You've been inside, then?"
"Well, no... But look through the window and you'll see."
When she bursts through the door, I roll my eyes. What follows is five minutes of searching through a—big gasp—totally barren kitchen. Empty cupboards, empty pantries, empty everything, even the extra storage rooms. So, as she makes her way down to the final door, which will surely be more of the same, I stop in my tracks.
"This is getting ridiculous, Mei. I've had enough snooping for one night. You and your psychic energy are wrong on this one."
"Just one last door!" she hollers.
