Page 70 of One Room Vacancy
“My groove,” she repeats flatly, but she’s fighting a smile.
We watched my favorite movie from when I was a kid last night, now I can’t stop quotingThe Emperor’s New Groove.
She pulls two clean glasses from the rack and pours us each a soda without asking. No ice, extra lime in mine. It’s a stupid thing, but it still makes my chest feel too full.
We lean against the bar, not talking for a moment. Just watching. A playlist she made months ago hums through the speakers, and someone yells “Fuck!” from the pool table corner, followed by a very apologetic “Sorry! Baby!”
Savannah doesn’t flinch. Loretta Joy is snoring in her wrap like she’s heard worse in the womb.
“She’s got your lungs,” I say, nodding toward the bundle in Savannah’s arms.
Sage huffs a laugh. “She’s got our mom’s name.”
“She’d be proud,” I say, and I mean it.
Sage looks away for a beat, like she needs to blink something back, then clears her throat and lifts her chin. “She would.” Shetugs the towel off her shoulder and flicks it at my hip, as though trying to shake off the softness of the moment.
I let her pretend.
A few seats down, one of the regulars hollers something about the jukebox being “possessed again,” and Sage rolls her eyes. “It’s not possessed, it’s just temperamental,” she mutters, already stepping out from behind the bar to deal with it.
When she returns, wiping her hands on the towel, she finds me exactly where she left me. Still watching her.
“What?” she asks, cocking a brow.
“You broke the rules.”
Her nose scrunches like she’s already regretting coming back. “Don’t start.”
This has turned into somewhat of a bit between us, usually when the other one seems to grow irritated to get them to crack a smile.
I lean in on my elbows, grin tugging at my mouth. “No sex with roommates—that was the rule.”
She scoffs. “You’re lucky I don’t put that on a sign behind the bar.”
“You’d have to list all the rules you broke, though,” I point out. “Might not fit on one sign.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re awfully smug for someone who showed up with a duffel bag and a half-baked excuse about needing a place to crash.”
I smirk. “It wasn’t half-baked. Wes said I could stay.”
“Wes didn’t know you were in love with me.”
“Details,” I say, lifting my glass.
“Pretty big one, don’t you think?”
“Didn’t hear you complaining when I made you coffee every morning.”
“That was bribery.”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
I tilt my head, pretending to think. “It was all worth it.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re the one who broke the rules.”
