Page 27 of Seven+Four

Lori, aren’t you in class?

Lori

This group chat finally turned interesting

Lori

Plus Teach doesn’t mind; she loves me

Ollie

Does she think you’re evolution’s missing link?

Lori

*finger flipping emoji* Go make your hubby happy already

Gabe

Name of this teacher who loves you, Little Wasp!

Lori

Leave her alone, Bez. I’m all yours and Gabe’s

Rami

Again, NO COUPLE messages in this chat!!

Me

BTW, Albert E. is a hairless guinea pig not a rabbit

Lori

Now I want to flush it even more

Uri makes his way into the living room reminding me I have things to get back to. He’s wearing leather boots, gray jeans, and a cashmere pullover with a V-neck that shows the collar of a white cotton t-shirt underneath. His light brown dreads are up in a pony tail, complementing the barely there brush of stubble over his strong jaw, and making his eyes his most prominent feature. That liquid hazel gaze, large nose, big lips, sharply angled jaw, smooth skin. All those piercings give him a rebellious air. I once had a peek at the end of some ink on his belly. I didn’t know he had tattoos on his body—yet another thing I was unaware of.

His long fingers are wrapped around the boxes he’s holding—how many times have I imagined them curled bruisingly tight around my arms, hips, thighs? Holding me close. Pinning me down. How would he react to me? What kind of voice would he use? What kind of expression would he have? How would it feel? I shouldn’t think about it. But my mind is an endless ocean of churning thoughts. I can’t stop them, only temporarily push them away.

I slide a couple of books inside the duffle bag on the floor before instinctively grabbing the picture of Uri and me and slip itinside. His eyes follow my movement and then lift to mine with that intense look of his—the same one I see in my countless past memories. The small mole on the rise of his cheek moves as a wolfish grin appears on his face. I send him a hesitant half smile before I turn toward the kitchen. He always makes me feel so aware of myself when I rarely do.

“Why all those boxes? I’m not going to stay long at your place,” I ask him, grabbing the only food present inside the cupboard: tea.

“We’ll see,” he replies cryptically, piling more boxes against the wall near the entrance. Albert E. is inside his cage, a thick, red cloth covers it.

Why do I suddenly feel like a little fly getting caught in a spider’s web? I shake off the unsettling sensation and put the tea into the bag.

“Have everything?”

I look around to double-check.

“Don’t worry, the rest will come in a couple of days with the moving truck.”

“Moving truck?”What is he talking about?“Uri, I’m going to crash at your place for a few days, a week tops.”

“Rats and their droppings can carry several diseases, plus when they enter the apartment, they’ll gnaw their way through everything, damaging all your possessions.”

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