Calla: He also bought me flowers.
Greer: Aww. I don’t know him very well, but I think I changed my mind. I vote no sabotage.
Willa: I second this.
Calla: You’re supposed to be on my team.
I hear the dryer turn on, so I drop my phone and open the book. Beck doesn’t say a word as he passes me. My clothes are in my basket, which he’s clearly taking to my room.
I sit up after his office door closes.
He’s not even going to comment on it? No sarcastic “Hey, don’t be lazy” or “I’m not your slave” or anything? Just… nothing.
Does this man have no standards?
I pull out my list again and delete everything. Clearly, the petty little things won’t work. I need to bring out the big guns.
Wish me luck.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BECK
My group’s writing Wednesdays are starting to stress me out more than they used to.
Calla and I have been living together for two weeks now. It’s been… a trip.
“How’s living with my sister?” Simon asks as we all pack up our computers. “And don’t show Grey your hair, okay? If he sees that you have blue hair, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
I rub a hand through my Smurf hair. I have no words. No thoughts. I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to Simon’s sister. Walking around my house to see things moved here and there is one thing. Folding her clothes is one thing. Doing her dishes is one thing. Showing her selfless acts of kindness like my parents would do for each other is all part of my “we are perfect for each other plan”—but this. I blow out a breath. I’m speechless.
This is the fucked-up part: I still want to make this work. I just need to get through whatever this phase is she has going on right now. I mean, what the hell even is it?
“It’s fine. Every day is different.”
He chuckles a little.
“So really, things are fine with Calla?”
“Yep. Fine. I mean, it would have been cool if you warned me that she hated housework or that she can’t cook to save a life.” I won’t mention the oatmeal concoction thing I found in the fridge from her the other day with a note that read, Enjoy breakfast! For a minuscule second, I thought, hey, maybe she’s coming around.
Nope.
“By the way, what was it like never having folded laundry in your house while you were growing up? I can’t believe you two lived with clothes stuffed in a drawer, no organization whatsoever.”
I shake my head and sling my bag over my shoulder. My mind is blown by these new tidbits I’ve learned about Calla, but I can move past it. It’s just out of the norm for me.
Simon bursts into laughter. “Who are you talking about?”
I glance up into the faces of all my friends.
“Your sister. Calla.”
He snorts. “That’s not Calla.”
“Um, news flash. It is. I live with her.”
“Well, that’s not the Calla I grew up with. My sister is a clean freak and organization is her thing. She’s such a weirdo about everything being in place, she should open her own business. Help others get organized.”
