Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(23)

Margot had wandered into the kitchen for her own cup of coffee, drawing up short at the sight of a smiley face scribbled on the refrigerator whiteboard and fresh flowers in a vase—an actual one made of glass, not the plastic pitcher that pulled double duty on the rare occasions Margot got flowers—on the breakfast bar.

It was taking a little time for her to get used to coming out of her bedroom to find Olivia curled up on the couch, Cat purring away innocently from the windowsill, but it wasn’t bad. A little stiff and stilted still, but getting better. Margot actually liked it.

“She hasn’t stolen my credit card, let her ant farm loose, or gone on a hallucinogenic bender and peed in my closet, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Margot fixed the bow on her last globe. No matter what she did, it came out crooked, hanging sad and lopsided, nothing at all like Darcy’s impeccable bows, with their pristine symmetrical loops. Oh well. Done was better than perfect. “Her cat did try to kill my vibrator, though. So that was fun.”

Silence followed for a beat, two beats—

“Is that a . . . metaphor?” Darcy asked.

Annie bent forward laughing, slapping her knee. “Her pussy killed your vibrator. Holy hell, what’s it made of?”

Darcy snickered. “Her vagina or the sex toy?”

“Either!” Annie wiped her eyes. “Wait, better question—what’s her kegel routine? I am impressed.”

“Is no one going to address the question of why Margot’s sharing sex toys with her new roommate?” Elle frowned. “Not judging, but I think there are more appropriate ways to make someone feel welcome.”

Annie waggled her brows.

“Filthy minds, all of you.” Margot huffed, sidestepping her history with Olivia. “I meant her actual cat. Cat. She pounced on it. Tore up the silicone. I had to toss it.”

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Brendon muttered.

“Oh, please, I’ve seen your bare, freckled ass doing unspeakable things to Annie in the middle of my kitchen, unspeakable things that required me to metaphorically bleach my brain so that I could continue to look you in the eye,” Margot said.

He smiled sheepishly. “Fair point.”

“So yeah, aside from my vibrator’s premature death, things are good.”

“You should’ve invited her,” Brendon said. “Tonight. That would’ve been fun.”

Everyone nodded.

Margot let herself imagine what it would be like if she were to bring Olivia along to a game night. They might have even numbers for a change. Margot’s eyes swept the room, lingering on Annie’s head propped against Brendon’s shoulder and Darcy’s hand resting on Elle’s thigh, the way they seemed to naturally gravitate toward one another without even thinking about it.

She sucked in a shaky breath. Even numbers might be nice.

“Maybe next time.”

Margot shifted, crossing her legs the other way, frowning when something poked her in the hip. She leaned back, wiggled her hand inside the pocket of her jeans, the tips of her fingers brushing up against—what was that? Folded paper? Odd. She didn’t remember leaving anything in her pockets, and she’d just washed these jeans yesterday.

The paper gave, slipping free. In Margot’s hand was a folded rectangle of notebook paper, the kind torn free from a composition notebook, blue lines bisecting the page. It had been folded meticulously, with care, the creases clean, the flap tucked just so, a perfect miniature envelope. Margot flipped it over. A heart, drawn in pink gel pen, adorned the front. There was no name, not that it needed one. There was no doubt who it was from.

Careful not to rip the paper, Margot unfolded the tiny origami envelope by pulling on the tucked flap. The paper gave easily, opening in her hand.

Have a great day ?

The way her lips curved in a replica of the smiley doodled on the paper was completely involuntary.

Margot hadn’t done laundry yesterday. Olivia had, and she’d left Margot a note, the exact kind they’d stealthily passed each other during class.

Suddenly warm, Margot folded the paper back up, returning it to her pocket the way she’d found it. When she lifted her head, Elle was staring at her, head cocked to the side curiously. Margot shook her head and mouthed, “nothing,” even though it felt like something. Something she didn’t understand. Something she didn’t want to try to explain.

She turned her attention to the TV. The movie they’d had playing in the background had ended, the Netflix home screen auto-playing a preview of a movie she hadn’t seen.

“What do you guys want to put on next?”

Annie yawned. “I think I’ve got to call it a night, guys.”

Margot double-checked the time. “It’s not even eleven.”

And they hadn’t ever gotten to charades like Elle had promised.

Darcy stood, stretching her arms over her head. “Annie’s right. I’m beat and we’ve got to wake up early.”

Elle groaned. “Five a.m.”

“What in God’s name do you have to get up at five for?” Margot asked.

She was pretty sure, in all their years of friendship, that she’d never seen Elle awake at seven, not unless she’d pulled an all-nighter.

“Yoga class,” Annie said, gathering the glasses from the table.