Page 11 of Catastrophically Yours
Minutes passed. The television's sleep timer dimmed the screen to black, leaving them in darkness broken only by streetlight filtering through her curtains. Drew's breathing remained steady, her weight warm and solid against Piper's side.
Finally, moving with careful precision, Piper extracted herself from the couch and retrieved the blanket they'd shared. She draped it over Drew's sleeping form, tucking the edges gently around her shoulders.
In her own bedroom, surrounded by the familiar order of her carefully controlled space, Piper lay awake processing how completely Drew's presence had infiltrated every corner of her routine. The coffee that tasted better than anything she'd ever made. Sticky notes that transformed her refrigerator into something cheerful and welcoming. Guitar music that made financial spreadsheets feel less important than beauty.
And how much she didn't want any of it to stop.
The realization should have terrified her. Her entire adult life had been constructed around maintaining independence, controlling variables, protecting herself from the chaos other people inevitably brought. She'd built systems specifically designed to prevent the kind of disruption Drew represented.
Instead, staring at her ceiling in the darkness, Piper found herself calculating how many days remained before Drew would find alternative housing. How many more mornings might begin with perfect coffee and gentle chaos. How many more evenings might end with someone trusting her enough to fall asleep against her shoulder.
The math felt depressing in ways that had nothing to do with numbers and everything to do with the growing certainty that temporary had already become something far more complicated.
Something she wasn't ready to lose.
FIVE
STAGE FRIGHT
Drew kept adjusting her guitar strap as they walked toward the café district. Luna felt heavier on her back tonight, weighed down by what she wanted this evening to be.
"The Blue Moon's been around since the seventies," she said, glancing at Piper. "Started as just a coffee shop, but the owner's daughter was a folk singer, and she convinced him to put in the little stage. It's not much to look at, but?—"
"Drew." Piper's voice held that gentle amusement Drew had grown used to. "You don't have to sell me on it. I want to see where you perform."
That should have made her feel better, but Drew's stomach kept doing flips. The chipped green door came into view, covered in faded posters and show announcements, and Drew wondered what Piper would think of her world.
Stepping into the Blue Moon felt like coming home—mismatched furniture, string lights hanging from exposed beams, the smell of coffee and old wood. Everything golden and warm and exactly the same as always.
"Drew!" Marcus waved from his corner table. The seventy-something jazz pianist had paint under his fingernails and silverhair that stuck up at odd angles. "Thought you might be taking the night off after last week's standing ovation."
"Never," Drew called back, her shoulders finally relaxing. "Marcus, this is my friend Piper. Piper, Marcus has been playing here longer than I've been alive."
Piper nodded politely as Marcus tipped an imaginary hat. "Any friend of our girl Drew's is welcome. Though I have to warn you, once you hear her sing, everywhere else will sound flat."
Marcus's eyes crinkled with curiosity as he looked between them. "So Piper, are you the one helping Drew with her housing situation? She mentioned she was staying with someone while apartment hunting."
Drew felt heat rise in her cheeks. "It's just temporary," she said quickly, glancing at Piper. "Until I find something permanent."
"Smart to have a good friend during a housing crisis," Marcus said warmly. "This city's rental market is brutal. How's the search going?"
"I've got a few applications in," Drew replied, though the words felt hollow. She'd barely looked at apartment listings in over a week. "Still waiting to hear back."
Piper's expression was unreadable, but something flickered across her face—was it relief or disappointment that Drew was still looking?
Drew's face warmed. She'd forgotten how the regulars were—protective as family and twice as embarrassing. As they moved through the café, she watched Piper take in the crowd: college students with laptops, construction workers sharing a pitcher, an elderly woman reading tarot cards.
"What can I get you folks?" Jen appeared with her bright smile and ink-stained apron. "Drew, you're up sixth tonight. Feeling anything in particular?"
"The usual set, I think." Drew watched Piper study the handwritten menu. "Piper, what sounds good?"
"Coffee. Black." Piper looked up. "Unless you recommend something else?"
"Their lavender honey latte is incredible. Not too sweet, and Jen makes her own honey blend."
"I'll try that."
Something about Piper taking her recommendation sent warmth through Drew's chest. She watched Piper pull out her wallet and step aside while the espresso machine hissed.
