Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(15)

Cameron (5:23 p.m.): Male or female? Spayed/neutered? Age? Indoor or outdoor? Is it a stray? Feral?





Margot’s head spun. Another message appeared before she could type out a response.

Andrew (5:24 p.m.): you still never answered why you’re asking

Margot (5:25 p.m.): I’m sorry, did you ask a question? I didn’t see a question mark





She answered Cameron’s questions one by one.

Margot (5:26 p.m.): Female, idk, idk, indoor now, not anymore, and I sincerely hope not.

Cameron (5:27 p.m.): ??????

Cameron (5:28 p.m.): I’m with Andrew on this. Why the sudden interest in cats?

Margot (5:30 p.m.): I’m thinking about getting one?

Andrew (5:31 p.m.): was that a question????





Jesus. Brothers.

Margot (5:32 p.m.): My roommate has a cat.





“No, no, no.” Margot cringed, wishing there was an unsend button she could press. It was too late. The knowledge was out there for her entire immediate family to see.

Andrew (5:33 p.m.): roommate

Andrew (5:33 p.m.): ?!

Mom (5:33 p.m.): I didn’t know you had a new roommate, honey.





Margot palmed her face.

Margot (5:34 p.m.): Can we please focus on the cat?

Cameron (5:35 p.m.): What’s their name?





Margot didn’t see why that mattered, but okay.

Margot (5:36 p.m.): Cat.

Cameron (5:37 p.m.): No, the roommate.

Andrew (5:38 p.m.): or the cat

Cameron (5:38 p.m.): ??

Andrew (5:39 p.m.): what

Andrew (5:39 p.m.): excuse me if i want to know the cat’s name too dude





Margot sighed. This conversation was quickly devolving into who’s on first territory.

Margot (5:40 p.m.): No, the cat’s name IS Cat.





She chewed on her lip.

Margot (5:40 p.m.): The roommate’s name is Olivia.

Andrew (5:41 p.m.): who names their cat CAT

Cameron (5:42 p.m.): Olivia, clearly. Keep up, Andrew.





Margot stared up at her ceiling, regretting her whole life.

Cameron (5:43 p.m.): Where’d you meet her?

Andrew (5:44 p.m.): i’m guessing cam means the roommate not the cat ??

Margot (5:45 p.m.): You know, nvm. All I wanted was to know how to avoid being eaten in my sleep but it’s fine. I’ll be fine. If you don’t hear from me, just assume I died and went on to become dinner.

Andrew (5:46 p.m.): circle of life ?

Mom (5:47 p.m.): That reminds me: do you ever hear from Olivia Grant?





Margot swallowed hard. No one, not even her family, knew the specifics of her relationship—or nonrelationship—with Olivia. Mom maybe knew about her crush, but as far everyone else was concerned, she and Olivia had only ever been friends. Best friends. Margot had never seen the point in telling them otherwise. There wasn’t anything worth telling.

Margot (5:49 p.m.): Funny story actually. My new roommate IS Olivia Grant.

Margot (5:49 p.m.): Small world, huh?

Andrew (5:50 p.m.): whoa weird

Cameron (5:51 p.m.): I thought she was married to Brad Taylor?

Dad (5:52 p.m.): No, they split up last year.





Margot shut her eyes. Okay, that was enough family time.

Margot (5:53 p.m.): Sorry got to go! I have plans. Talk soon. ?

Andrew (5:54 p.m.): “plans”

Cameron (5:54 p.m.): Avoid petting her stomach and hind area.

Andrew (5:55 p.m.): what the fuck

Andrew (5:55 p.m.): boundaries bro

Mom (5:57 p.m.): I think Cameron was talking about the cat, honey.





Margot threw her phone down on the bed and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until a kaleidoscope of bright colors and funky shapes danced behind her lids. Avoid petting her stomach and hind area.

And awesome, now Margot was thinking about touching Olivia, how Olivia liked to be touched, where Olivia liked to be touched.

This was wrong. Olivia was right next door. Margot had no business thinking about how impossibly soft Olivia’s skin was or how her blush spread all the way to her belly button when Margot undressed her. It was wrong to think about the way Olivia’s bottom lip trembled when she whispered the word please or how her breath had stuttered when Margot had put her mouth at the crease of her thigh. How her fingers had tangled in Margot’s hair, not afraid to pull, and how her voice had cracked on Margot’s name when she came. How she bruised so easily, imprints of Margot’s mouth left behind on the soft curve of Olivia’s stomach and hips and the sides of her breasts and how Margot had wondered if, days after, Olivia had gotten herself off, one hand pressed against those marks and the other buried between her thighs.

Down the hall, the bathroom door shut. Margot dropped her hands, blinking into the brightness of her room.

Fuck.

So much for not thinking about it.

Margot pressed her thighs together, heat rising in her face, a miracle her glasses hadn’t fogged. The throbbing between her legs was persistent and hard to ignore, harder because she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to ignore it.

Things were awkward enough between them without having to look Olivia in the eye over a bowl of breakfast cereal with the knowledge that she’d rubbed one out to thoughts of her. Not years ago, but now.