Liquid Feels - Book 3 - DP Series - Complete

4. Mis-er-y

My roommate has a tendency to disappear without a word. Not that I'm complaining. I don't plan on scheduling any romantic one-on-one time with anyone anytime soon. And speaking of romance... there is none. I haven't spoken to Seth since I discovered that he's a free man. Mainly because I'm really really pissed at him for hiding that fact from me. I mean, I'm not some crazy psycho stalker who plans on snatching him away just because I know he's single now. I'd snatch him away regardless.

Okay, so maybe he should be afraid of me. I can get a little bit intense. I know that. Anyone who knows me knows that. But it seems he figured me out too soon. I just desperately want him to know that I'm the cool kind of crazy and not the sniff-your-hair-while-you-sleep kind of crazy. I've promised myself I'll save the hair-sniffing for the wedding bed.

Rather than waste my weekend obsessed with people who aren't obsessing over me, I invite my favorite people to come down for a visit. People who share the same level of crazy with me. It's gonna be absolutely insane! I can't wait.

It's bright and early, and I'm ready. Too ready. I've had enough energy drinks to power a small village and I'm pretty sure that if I got up enough speed, I'd be able to run on the ceiling. Thankfully, Emma was out of here super early this morning, so I don't have to go through the dreadful task of waking her up just to make her leave.

I hear their arrival before they even knock on the door. The noise barreling down the hall is enough to awaken the dead. While everyone else is doing their best to suppress their fury at being woken up at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, I'm swelling with pride.

Swinging the door open, I stand in my most prized pajamas—the ones with my family's faces printed all over them—and smile proudly as they approach.

My mom is pulling two massive suitcases behind her, both so large that they keep scraping against the walls, and has a sweater sitting on the top of her head like a windblown turban. My fourteen-year-old sister, Hope, has her own set of suitcases, plus a small dog kennel balanced on the top of one of them as she walks backward down the hall, probably to keep a close eye on the kennel so it doesn't fall off.

Neither of them sees me, and I can hear the two of them bickering as my mom tries to use her shoulder to push a stubborn chunk of hair away from her eyes. The moment my mom sees me, she makes a hasty beeline for my door and practically throws herself on me as she breathes out a weary sigh.

"Ice," she mumbles, exhaustion pulling her toward Emma's vacant bed.

Hope doesn't even bother with a hug as she's far too occupied with the creature in the crate.

"Beep beep," she urges, practically pushing me out of the way so she can pull her luggage into my room. "Cleo is dying."

"Huh?"

"Cleo," she repeats looking at me stupidly as she points to a wobbly, naked creature huddled in the back of the little cage. "Cleopatra."

I peer down into the opening for a better view. "Why the heck would you name it that?"

"Because she's beautiful," she replies, offended.

"On the inside?"

Hope huffs, unlatching the door and dragging the little dog from its corner. She's shaking, her stiff tail wrapped between her legs as she sniffs the air. I reach a finger toward her but she dodges it and continues her obnoxious sniffing.

"She's stupid."

"Hey," Hope cries, covering the dog's ears and shielding her from my very presence. "Why would you say that?"

"Because," I tell her. "I had peanut butter for breakfast, literally scooped globs of it out with this very finger, and Clueless Cleo didn't even bother giving it a lick."