Page 64 of Cat’s Guide To Romance

Lucien: OUR tent.

Sparkle: Absolutely not. That thing tried to kill us.

Lucien: We shared something special beneath that tent.

Heat crawls up my neck as I remember exactly what we shared beneath that tent.

Sparkle: You mean when it collapsed on us?

Lucien: I was referring to the making out, but whatever.

I laugh and set my phone down. Then pick it right back up. I stare at his name at the top of the screen. He hasn’t sent anything else yet, but I keep looking anyway. My thumb hovers over the keyboard before I lock the phone and put it facedown.

I have things to do today. Things for me. That still feels strange.

I carry my yogurt and muffin into the living room. There are boxes everywhere. Half the apartment looks like someone actually lives here, while the other half looks like I might disappear tomorrow. The bright pink armchair I bought at two in the morning because I liked it.

The second bedroom is still empty except for boxes I haven’t unpacked. I don’t know what I want to do with it yet. An office seems pointless. Maybe a craft room. Maybe I’ll get a giant cat tree for when I shift. The thought makes me laugh because Papa would absolutely hate it. That might be reason enough.

My bedroom is the real project. Thirty-two paint swatches cover one wall, because apparently there are more shades of lilac than any reasonable person could ever need. I stand in front of them with my hands on my hips, comparing colors I’m increasingly convinced are exactly the fucking same.

My phone buzzes again. I tell myself I’m not going to grab it immediately. I make it five seconds.

Lucien: Retrieved the tent.

There’s a picture attached. Lucien stands in the woods holding the mangled green tent in one hand. His dark hair is messy, his expression is deeply offended, and half the tent appears to be covered in mud. One pole sticks out at an angle behind his head.

I save the picture. Then stare at the screen. “Oh, I’m fucked.”

My empty apartment offers no opinion. I look at the picture again. Lucien has been chasing me since Halloween. Flowers. Songs. Compliments. Showing up at Wick’s every morning just because he knew I’d probably be there. A cat café that went spectacularly wrong. Camping that somehow went even worse.

And I like him. I really, really fucking like him. That’s terrifying.

I drop onto my new couch and stare around my apartment. This was supposed to be the scary part. Moving out. Being alone. Figuring out who Sparkle is when nobody needs him to do anything. Instead, I’m sitting here thinking about a ridiculous demon.

My gaze catches on the flowers Lucien brought me before our first date. I still don’t have a vase, so they’re sitting in a water pitcher on the kitchen counter. A few are starting to droop, but I haven’t been able to throw them away. I like seeing evidence that he was here. The realization settles somewhere deep in my chest. I want him here again.

Not because I need help unpacking. Not because there’s something heavy I can’t move or something broken that needs magic. I don’t need Lucien to do anything. I just want him. My stomach flips.

I’ve spent so much of my life being needed that I never really stopped to consider the difference between being needed and being wanted.

I pick up my phone.

Sparkle: What are you doing tonight?

The answer comes so quickly I laugh.

Lucien: YOU TEXTED ME FIRST.

Sparkle: Never mind.

Lucien: NO.

Lucien: I apologize. I am calm.

Lucien: Extremely calm.

Lucien: What did you have in mind?