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“Right!” She grins and giggles. “Of course. You think your sleeping patterns will bother your girlfriend? Do you think those things bother most girlfriends?”
Her word choice has me instantaneously exchanging my original planned line of questioning regarding lady products for another. “My…” the title struggles to leave my tongue, “my…my what now?”
“Girlfriend.” Aviva leans against her doorframe at the same time she sighs. “And while I’m a little bummed things didn’t work out with Lila – she said she was totally into you but understood the situation when I texted her this morning – I could not be happier that you and Arley are finally together!” Joy jumps into her expression and off her tongue before I get the chance to comment. “You two remind me of sexton beetles – or burying beetles as they’re more commonly called. You have something so…rareand unusual to your relationship that it’s impossible not to be enraptured by it.”
I don’t have any fucking clue what that means.
Ithinkit’s a good thing.
It…almost…soundslike a good thing.
I’mma take it to be a good thing even if it is awrongthing.
Last I checked, I had accepted my lifelong enlistment in the Best Friend Zone.
“Did Lila tell you about Arley and me being a…um…” my finger whirls around to indicate the word I can’t seem to say, “or was it someone else?”
“Khar.”
“Blu?” New bursts of consternation cloud my demeanor. “Blutold you that we were together?”
“Yup.”
“What uh…” stuffing the emotions down is done in tandem with me folding my arms defensively over my chest, “whatexactlydid he say?”
“That Arley had a lifechanging brush with death and that that’s what caused you two tofinallyconfess your feelings for each other.”
That didn’t happen.
That…could’ve happened.
Fuck, that probablyshould’vehappened but instead we somehow ended up arguing more than ever.
“And because you two lovebugs are going to be stuck together and mating like crazy, you’re going to need your space versus having a third person invading it around the clock just waiting for their turn to do their job, which is why Blu is going to be stationed at my place until he’s needed.”
Being equally impressed and outraged by the explanation is what leads to me slowly nodding.
Pressing my lips tightly together.
Drumming my fingers and toes to the same unhappy speed while internally cringing.
I fuckinghatehow much sense that explanation makes.
And what I hate more?
The fact thathewas simply followingbasicoperating procedures I should’ve.
That he knew he’d need a viable excuse fornotsharing a space with us.
More often than not, we need a cover for private security ops. One that allows us to blend into an environment, especially when we aren’t surewhois to be trusted or how secure an area is. The cover should be so natural that it doesn’t raise the suspicions of the innocent bystanders we’re surrounded with or those that we’re there to evade while protecting our client.
It’s another reason I don’t fucking care for PS.
I hate pretending.
It always increases the chance of a mission going sideways.
However, as much as I may despise playing adult dress up, Blu acted accordingly. He protected the heart of the mission and didn’t compromise its essence by doing something stupid like coming up with aTom and Jerryapproved plot for us to have to keep up with.
