I snuggle into the cushions that Billie and I insist on keeping piled high on our couch, and tighten my hold on the mug of peppermint hot chocolate that is warming my fingers.

“I don’t know,” Billie muses from the kitchen where she’s cleaning up. “From everything you’ve told me about Nick.” She says his name in a swoony manner that I find highly offensive. “You would agree to anything he offered.”

“That is not helpful.” I sink lower into the sofa, pulling my knees up to my chest. My eyes follow her as she moves around the room and I have to stifle a sigh. She’s been like this ever since she moved in almost a year ago. I wish she trusted that I asked her to be my roommate because I love her company. Not because I need a quasi housekeeper.

“And you just took off this morning without talking to him about his plan?”

“Will you stop, please.” I wave my hand around in the general direction of the kitchen and pat the seat next to me. “Come and sit, so you can properly humor me.”

I can practically feel her eye roll from the other side of the room, but she throws the cloth she was scrubbing the counters with into the sink and slowly makes her way over.

“Fine,” she huffs, plopping down. “So, you were about to tell me how you ran away like a little bitch?”

The pillow behind my back comes in handy when I throw it at her.

“I didn’t run away,” I snap. “He was out when it was time for me to come here. It was just a happy coincidence.”

“Holly.” She levels me with a stare that has me wriggling in my seat. “I wasn’t even awake when you got here, and Troy isn’t dropping Tahlia off for another—” She glances at her watch. “Half an hour. You’ve been here for at least three hours longer than necessary. At least.”

God, she’s such a smart-ass, why am I friends with her again?