Page 55 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

My eye snagged on the teal blanket draped across it. Thick and fluffy looking, the kind that would swallow you whole. For a moment I wanted to throw myself onto it. The bed was huge—king size, easily—stretching all the way to a pile of plush-looking pillows.

But there was something on the pillow to the left. Something black, with white lettering. Something hoodie-shaped.

I frowned. Kit didn’t wear hoodies. Only cardigans—endless cardigans in every pattern known to mankind.

Whereas I…

I couldn’t help it. I stepped closer into the room, drawn towards the bed like a moth to a flame.

Because I was becoming increasingly sure I’d seen that particular hoodie before.

Increasingly sure it was mine. My hoodie that I’d left behind at work one day weeks ago. My favourite one, the one that said: I’m not antisocial, I’m just not user friendly. I’d looked for it the next day, but hadn’t been able to find it.

Blood rushed through my ears as I picked it up, holding it in front of me with both hands.

The fabric shook—no, my hands were shaking. My throat constricted as if someone had wrapped fingers around my windpipe.

Why why why why why?

My vision became spotty around the edges. Every instinct I possessed screamed danger, flight, escape. Fight or flight mode activated with the force of a slap.

I chose flight.

I bolted out of the bedroom, charging for the front door and fumbling desperately with locks that seemed designed to trap me inside. The metallic clicking echoed through the flat, so loud Kit would definitely hear.

Shit. I was going to have to sprint.

The door finally yielded, and I burst out into the night air, running like my life depended on it. I’d never run this fast in my entire life, not even during the most sadistic PE lessons at school. I picked a random direction and just went for it, clutching my stolen hoodie to my chest like it might save me somehow.

I had no idea where I was. These residential streets all looked identical in the dark—endless rows of Victorian houses, parked cars, the occasional glowing window. I’d just run until I found a bus stop, figure out how to get home from there.

“Felix!” The roar behind me made my blood freeze. “Wait!”

It only made me speed up, my trainers slapping against wet pavement as I tore through the dark London streets.

“Please!” Kit’s voice was closer now, desperate and raw and agonised. “Just give me one second!”

My lungs burned like I’d swallowed acid. My legs began to wobble and slow. No! I crossed one road, then another, before finally stumbling to lean against a brick wall, gasping for breath and cursing my complete lack of fitness. Apparently three training sessions with Kit hadn’t been quite enough to cure me.

Kit appeared within moments, materialising out of the shadows like he’d barely been running at all. The bastard wasn’t out of breath in the slightest.

“Felix,” he croaked, reaching out tentatively before his arms dropped to his sides.

“This is mine!” I shrieked through my harsh pants, holding up the hoodie as if he didn’t already know. “Mine, Kit!”

“I know.” His voice was thick, like he was fighting back tears. “I know it’s yours. I’m so sorry. You left it behind after that movie night, and I was going to give it back to you, I—”

“Why was it in your bed?!”

Kit’s face went bright pink, glowing in the orange streetlight. “It’s… it’s nothing weird, I promise!”

“What do you mean, nothing weird?!” My voice spiked with incredulity.

“Nothing… well… untoward,” he stammered, the pink deepening to scarlet. “I mean… I just sleep with it… sometimes.”

I stared at him. “That’s pretty fucking weird, Kit!”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His face looked utterly grief stricken. My brain spun and spun, as if stuck in an infinite loop. “This wasn’t meant to happen. Not like this.”