Seriously, Kit.If I did start shit last night, then I don’t need Kit getting involved on my behalf, and I try to make that as clear as I possibly can across the kitchen island.I’m fine.
The other two don’t notice. Pan is giving Tink a blank look and shrugging. “Okay, so? Now she has my business card. Win win.”
“Business card? You mean a receipt with your name and phone number on the back?”
Except now Pan ignores him. Because hestoppedignoring me and Kit, and that’s when I realize the two of us have been way silent for way long.
“What areyoutwo up to?” Pan narrows his eyes and tosses back his last chunk of burrito. “Some weird twin shit?” Heswallows. “Like…what’s the movie where there’s two Lindsay Lohans?”
“The Parent Trap,” says Tink.
“Yeah!” Pan laughs. “One of those.”
“As if that would work,” Kit mutters. I ignore him. And them, kinda.
“I was just…uh…does the milk smell off to you?” I nudge the carton at Kit to change the subject. “It tastes kinda weird.”
Kit drops the other half of the orange, wipes his hands on his shirt, and lifts the carton. But he doesn’t smell it.
“Tastes weird?” he echoes.
I nod. Take another bite of cereal. Yep, definitely weird.
“Yeah,” I confirm through my Cheerios. “Does it smell weird?”
“Is there something wrong with just checking the expiration date?” Tink asks. “Or…”
Another squeeze of guilt clamps my stomach.
Wait…
Kit studies the milk carton. Then sighs. “It tastes weird because it’soatmilk, Fox.” He slides the carton back over at me. “SpecificallyBlue’soat milk. Which you seem to have killed.”
“Oh.” I gulp. “Shit.”
Pan laughs. “Oh shit is right.”
“No kidding,” Kit says. “Your last will and testament up to date?”
“Fuck you,” I mumble into my Cheerios. My face feels hot. “They looked the same.”
“Except for how that one says OAT MILK on it.”
Tink.
And then, all it once it hits me.
Last night. The Lagoon.
Tink.
The bathroom door…
Can’t you fuckin’ read?
His voice rings in my ears.
I can, I think. I mean, I kind of can. I’ve figured out how to get by. And whenever I can’t, I ask Kit.
