Page 34

“Ow!” Kappy screamed in the living room, making me lose my balance and bump into my bathroom sink.

Yupp. He was actually staying here. He showed up about a half hour ago with a shit-eating grin on his face and a bulging duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Tying my fluffy robe together, I threw open the bathroom door and stomped out to the living room, only to skid to a stop. A very shirtless, very muscular Kappy, wearing sweatpants hanging off his hips, was on his feet, holding his cheek and staring daggers at a perfectly content Carl.

“That evil asshole scratched me! I think I’m bleeding!”

I tried my best to hold back a giggle. “What did you do to him?”

Kappy’s brown eyes bulged. “I didn’t do a thing.” He flung his tattooed arm to the couch. “I was just sitting here minding my own business. He hates me for no fucking reason!” He shook his head. “This apartment isn’t big enough for the two of us.”

“I told you that,” I huffed, trying my best to keep my eyes off his ripped torso. “That’s why this is a stupid idea. We don’t need to live together.”

“No, I’m not talking about me and you.” His forehead creased. “Me and the cat! That beast has to go, Piper. He’s trying to show dominance over me and it’s not okay.”

“Dominance?” I laughed at his ridiculousness. “What are you saying? I am not kicking out my cat, Kappy.”

“Well, we have to do something, draw boundaries or some shit.” His hand dropped from his cheek, and I sucked in a sharp gasp.

“What?” he asked, alarmed.

“Nothing,” I squeaked out.

He ran past me into the bathroom.

“I’m gonna kill that cat!” he seethed.

“No, you’re not.” I ran over to Carl and hugged him to my chest. He purred loudly and snuggled into me. “It’s just a little scratch.”

“This isn’t little,” he burst out, his neck veins bulging. “Give the cat to Lucy for a week or something, please ,” he begged.

“No,” I argued, holding Carl closer.

Kappy grit his jaw. “He’s going to scratch off my face. You want a partner without a face?”

Rolling my eyes, I turned on my heel. “I’ll put her in my bedroom.”

His eyebrows scrunched. “But…but where am I going to sleep?”

That had me snorting a laugh. “You thought you were sleeping in my bedroom? With me? ”

“Well, I thought you’d invite me.”

I cackled in his face. “In your dreams.” While I had reservations about opening up and giving my heart to him before, now I really needed to keep my guard up. “We’re partners now, we can’t be canoodling. The couch is all yours, buddy boy.”

That seemed to silence him, which was weird. He was never silent. I slowly turned to look back at him, just to see his sly grin.

“What?” I demanded.

“You just said we’re partners.” Both dimples popped out as his hands went to his hips.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks. “Yeah, well, I guess we are.”

His lips twitched in amusement.

“What now?” I asked dryly.

“Canoodling?” he grinned. “Isn’t that what partners are supposed to do?”

My lips pursed. “No, partner canoodling is strictly business.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Viper.” He grabbed up his Xbox controller, but he was still grinning.

He looked way too happy about this .

“It’s a stupid part of the job, just like this living arrangement,” I sputtered out. “And put a shirt on,” I called over my shoulder before closing myself in my room.

My body collapsed against my door, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

He took up way too much space in my apartment, and he was already making a complete mess of my living room, but I couldn’t deny the tiny little thrill still alive and present in my chest.

________

In the morning, I was shocked to find that Carl’s hate for Kappy was nothing compared to Kappy’s hate for mornings.

Moving into the kitchen, I started up my coffee, mixed up a protein shake, and reached in the fridge for eggs. But then I sat there staring down at the carton of eggs for a solid two minutes, debating if I should make three for myself, or add three more for him.

This is so stupid, just ask him, a voice in my head pushed. He’s the same Kappy you’ve known your whole life, why are you being so weird?

Marching over to the couch, I tapped his shoulder. “Kappy.”

He didn’t budge. He was bunded up with the blanket almost covering his face.

“Kappy,” I announced in a louder tone. “Wake up.”

He laid so motionless that a little panic seeped into me.

“Kappy!” I shouted.

When he finally grunted and turned over, relief filled my chest. He was alive, but that just meant he was ignoring me.

Growing frustrated, I pulled the covers down and dared to pat his face, only to find that his cheek was searing hot. On closer inspection, his hair was damp with sweat. Yanking the blanket clean off, I found that his whole body was sweaty. His t-shirt was basically soaked through.

“Jesus, Piper, I’m tired,” he groaned, grabbing for his blanket.

“Why are you all sweaty?”

“Huh?”

“You’re drenched in sweat, and you’re all pale. Are you sick?”

He rubbed his eyes. “What?”

“Are you sick?” I slowly repeated. He squinted at me like I was speaking a different language. “Do you feel okay? ”

That seemed to snap him out of the haze he was stuck in. “I’m fine, jeez.” He stood quickly, but then almost toppled over and had to grab the ledge of the TV stand, making my picture frames and decor topple to the floor.

“Are you okay?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed at his chest. “You need to stop asking that.”

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay,” I said defensively.

“It’s too early for this,” he grumbled.

Feeling slighted, I completely rescinded my potential breakfast offer. “Well, I’m leaving for ballet in twenty minutes with or without you.”

He just grunted, making me wonder where the usual happy-go-lucky Kappy went.

I ended up leaving for the dance studio without him. Polina, our middle-aged Russian dance instructor, was a stickler for being late, and I was not about to risk her wrath because of him.

But he shockingly made it to practice on time. He strolled in with his hair still wet from the shower, but he had more color in his face than he did after waking up, making me feel a little relieved.

“You good?” I asked quietly while reaching for my toes to stretch.

“Yeah, why?” he feigned indifference, but I could tell he was hiding something.

“You didn’t look so good this morning.”

“You two.” Polina interrupted us. “Ready?” she asked in her thick Russian accent.

Kappy gave her what I can only describe as his “smolder” look, squinting his eyes and smirking slightly. He reached out for a handshake. “I’m Richard Kappers.” His voice dipped. “But friends call me Kappy. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

I snorted, then immediately tried to cover it as a cough when they both looked at me.

Polina’s sharp gaze darted from Kappy’s hand to his face. She turned up her nose and walked away from his hand, her posture extremely straight. “We start with stretch,” she demanded.

Kappy stole his hand back and smoothed it through his damp hair. “Okay then.”

“Guess your charm doesn’t work on everyone,” I snickered.

“Guess not,” he said with a little chuckle .

We went through a round of stretches, and Polina really pushed Kappy. Watching her forcefully deepen his stretch, making his face go red, had me actually feeling bad for him. I went through that, but at age seven.

As soon as Polina walked away to give us a water break, Kappy rolled onto his back and groaned. “I don’t think men are supposed to stretch like this. My man area hurts.” He slung an arm over his forehead and remained on the floor.

“Man area?” I unscrewed my water bottle for a sip.

His eyes flicked to mine. “My dick area, Piper. My dick area.”

I almost choked on my water.

“Glad you find that so funny,” he scoffed, struggling to straighten his legs.

I had to roll my lips together to keep from laughing.

After running through ballet basics, Polina started guiding us through elegant movements.

The first had Kappy bending his right knee, extending his left leg into a pointed toe, and reaching toward me, and I was supposed to smooth into him.

We never even got to the smoothing part because he was doing way too much.

His exaggerated reach toward me was comical.

Shaking her head at Kappy, Polina said, “Girl is rose, boy is just stem. Your job is let her bloom, let her be beautiful.”

Kappy frowned. “But I can be beautiful, too.”

“No,” she snapped, looking completely flustered. It was probably the first time someone spoke back to her. “You are stem.”

Kappy’s face morphed into a pout.

As soon as Polina walked to the front of the room, he muttered, “I am a beautiful flower.”

A laugh rolled out of me. I automatically slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late.

“Collect yourselves!” Polina snapped at us.

Kappy’s lips twitched. “Yeah, Piper.” He reached out and squeezed my waist, making my whole body jolt like it was hit with an electric current. “Collect yourself.”

________

When I returned home that night, Kappy was plopped on the couch, fast asleep with his hair cocked up in a hundred different directions and with ice bags resting on his upper thighs, calves, and feet. The glow from the TV reflected on his tired face and guilt speared into me.

I tried my best to not wake him while shuffling into the living room to shut the TV off, but he rustled awake anyway.

“You’re back.” He rubbed his bleary eyes. “Where’d you go?”

“Dinner with Mer and Ali.”

“Al Pal?” His face creased with confusion. “I know I’m only half awake, but isn’t she somewhere on a cruise ship? Did she get back? Does JP know?”

I paused, wondering why JP would need to know. “No, she’s not back. She’s still on tour, but she FaceTimes us for dinner every Tuesday.”

He nodded, taking in this information. Silence descended in the room, making me regret turning off the TV.

“Kappy.” I gently sat on my decorative armchair and leaned my elbows on my knees. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I warily eyed his sore body.

“Yes,” he said automatically.