Page 44 of Starrily

He broke the tension by clearing his throat. “Note to self: don’t give Phoenix golden or platinum rings,” he said, in as joking a tone as he could muster.

Theia nuzzled up against him. “You might like it, though, wouldn’t you?” he said to the cat.

“I swear she’s doing this to mess with me,” Calliope muttered.

“How old is she?”

“Four years, soon. I was in the middle of my PhD thesis and losing my mind. Ava said I needed stress relief and took me to an animal shelter. We were only supposed to take a few animalsout for a walk, but she was there, a tiny little fur ball, all alone …” Calliope shrugged. “It makes it even funnier that after all this time, she still doesn’t like Ava. She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her.”

“You must be glad to have her. And your friend.”

“Absolutely.” A bit of a smile played on her lips.

“And your family?”

The smile instantly disappeared. “What?”

“You don’t see your family often? I don’t know if you live far away from them, but as far as emotional support—”

“No,” she cut him off. “I—they—yeah. They live far away.” She’d tensed, and he felt an uncomfortable energy in the air, hinting he should let the topic go. So he did.

Unfortunately, he was never good at silence. But he was good at salvaging conversations. He tapped his feet on the floor. “Wanna watch a movie?”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “Sure.”

“Hmm, but who’s picking?”

Theia jumped off the couch onto the console table holding the TV, looked at them, and meowed.

Calliope looked at him, a slight smile showing. “This, Mr. Montague, is where you learn who truly rules this apartment.”

Three cups of tea, two hours, and an argument over Han Solo shooting first later, the evening drew to a close. Calliope wandered over to the door to her bedroom, leaving Simon with some final, needless instructions—the bathroom is over there if he needed it during the night, and there’s drink in the fridge and chips in the overhead cabinet, in case he was a midnight snacker. Simon thanked her and watched her disappear into the darkness, Theia softly treading after her.

And then the door closed, and he was alone in the living room. He turned off the light, leaned on the pillow she’d given him, and stared into the ceiling.

The pillow smelled of something flowery, but not too sweet.Calliope. Was that her scent? There hadn’t been many opportunities where he would’ve been close enough to pick it up; the most recent being their little tussle during the body art project. Of course, at that point, she smelled more of paint than anything else.

But the way she looked … the way that tight jumpsuit displayed every curve of her body … and for Calliope being barely over five feet, there was a surprising amount of curvature.

Simon grunted, turned over onto his stomach, and buried his head in the pillow, unintentionally getting even more of her scent.

“Stop it,” he commanded and, with everything he had, willed himself to sleep.

Simon wasn’t sure what had woken him up, but it was still the middle of the night. The rain had stopped, and pale light shone onto the sofa. He rose into a sitting position and shook his head. He was convinced he’d heard something, but he’d still been caught in his dream and wasn’t sure what was real and what not.

And then—a scream. Or a yelp, more like, coming from Calliope’s bedroom. He deliberated for a second; after all, he couldn’t—

Another scream.

Nope, he was barging in.

Calliope was twisting and turning in her bed, her blanket tossed away, bedsheets crumpled. “No, hold on,” she said. “Hold on! Mila, no!”

Not sure what to do, Simon sat on the edge of her bed and gently shook her. “Calliope. Wake up.”

She moaned, tossing her head left and right.

“Calliope,” he tried again, shaking her more firmly.