CHAPTER 13 #2
Miley let out a soft laugh, her eyes never leaving Max, who had suddenly opened his green eyes and was staring at her with an unsettling amount of interest. "Monica tells me that you’re quite the introvert, Angela," Miley said, smoothing down her skirt as she stepped over to the couch, taking a seat on the opposite end with an easy, unbothered grace.
I felt a sudden, sharp prickle of irritation. I looked at my momma, who was currently hiding a smug grin behind her hand.
"I feel like I’m being interviewed," I said flatly, crossing my arms over my chest as I remained standing.
I was already incredibly bored of this forced setup, but at the same time, there was something about the casual way Miley occupied space that made me want to keep looking at her. It made me nervous.
"Oh, structural habit, my bad," Miley chuckled, raising her hands defensively. "I spent the last eight hours dealing with corporate interrogations on the forty-second floor, so my brain is a little fried. I didn't mean to come off like an HR manager. Can I hold Max?"
I blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "Sure," I said slowly, finally sitting up on the couch, leaving a careful distance between us. "But good luck with that. He doesn't really like strangers. He usually bites."
I reached over, scooping Max into my arms, and carefully passed his heavy, white body over to her lap.
What happened next completely defied the laws of physics in our apartment.
The minute Max’s paws touched Miley’s silk blouse, he didn't hiss.
He didn't growl. Instead, he let out a low, rumbling purr that sounded like a small engine starting up.
He cozied up to her real quick, much to my absolute, unmitigated surprise.
He began kneading his paws against her knee, rubbing his heavy white cheek against her gold bracelets, completely surrendering to her space.
Miley let out a soft, delighted coo, her long fingers moving through his fur, scratching him in the exact spot behind his ears that he loved.
Seeing my usually demonic cat turn into complete mush in her lap made something inside my chest loosen up, just a little bit. The rigid boundary I had drawn began to blur at the edges.
"Well... look at that," I murmured, watching her hands move. "He likes you. He never likes anyone."
"Animals know who’s keeping it real, Angela," Miley said softly, looking up from the cat to lock her dark eyes onto mine. "They don't care about the corporate titles or the outfits. They just read the room."
I leaned back against the cushions, staring at her. "My mom calls me an introvert, but the truth is, I just vibe with anyone that vibes with me. And of late, I haven't been feeling the vibe from anybody out here in these streets, you feel me?"
"I do," Miley smiled, her fingers still gently petting Max, who was now practically rolling on his back in her lap. "Trust me, I feel that deep in my soul. People out here have a lot of hidden agendas, especially in this city. You gotta protect your peace."
I glanced at the television screen, where the series was still playing on mute. "I like this series," Miley noted, her eyes shifting to the screen for a second. "My favorite character is Lilith. She’s fierce, she takes zero shit from the council, and she handles her business."
I let out a sharp scoff, my competitive nature instantly flaring up. "Yeah, I like Lilith too, but the truth is, Vera Stone is the one bringing the entire Order series right now. The rest of them characters are just tagging along for the ride, deadass."
Miley’s head snapped up, her eyebrows rising as a playful, challenging spark lit up her eyes. "Nah, girl, you tripping! Even my girl Gabrielle is lit! Gabrielle brought the whole betrayal arc in season two. You can't tell me she's just tagging along."
"Gabrielle is a secondary character with a budget upgrade, Miley," I shot back, a genuine laugh bubbling up in my throat before I could stop it. "Without Vera holding down the sanctuary, the entire plot collapses by episode four."
"You are absolutely wilding," Miley said, rubbing Max’s head with an infectious laugh that made the air in the room feel lighter than it had in months. "Vera is doing too much. She needs to take a weekend off."
I was about to set it off—nobody came into my living room and disrespected Vera Stone's contribution to modern television—but before I could launch into my full defense, my momma stepped back into the living room.
She walked up behind the couch, hunching over the high back, looking down at the two of us with an insufferable, knowing smirk.
"Erm... it’s nice to see that you two are getting along so fast," momma interrupted, her voice dripping with maternal satisfaction.
The spell was instantly broken. The warmth in my chest went completely cold, replaced by a sudden, heavy rush of defensive armor. I looked up at her, my eyes narrowing.
"Who says we are getting along, mom?" I asked, my tone dropping into a serious, sharp register.
"By the way, is this your new little trick?
Is this your way for me to get up out the house?
Driving around the city, finding random pretty girls from E-Tech, and bringing them back to the crib like a playdate? "
"Don’t start your crap, Angie," my mother said, her voice hardening as she stepped around the couch, her hospitality instantly cracking under my resistance.
"I told you that you need to unwind. You've been sitting in this apartment for a solid month, staring at screens and acting like the world owes you an apology. You need to talk to people."
"I can unwind perfectly fine with Netflix, good food, and Max!" I shouted, standing up from the couch so fast that Max startled, leaping out of Miley’s lap and retreating to the safety of the hallway. I felt the hot prickle of tears gathering behind my eyelids, the raw, unhealed weight of my past tearing through my throat. "I don’t need nothing else, Mom! You know I don’t like getting entangled with people!
You know exactly what happened the last time!
The last time I opened up my mouth and trusted someone in this world! "
A single, hot tear streaked down my cheek, burning against my skin. I didn't care that Miley was sitting right there, watching my entire life unravel in the middle of the living room. The pain was too real, too heavy to keep contained.
"I know, sweetie, I know," my mother said, her voice softening into a desperate, pleading whisper as she stepped closer, trying to reach out to me.
"But you need to move on from that. You can’t live your life like a prisoner in your own skin, Angie.
You need life. You need to breathe. And I honestly believe Miley here can help you in that department. "
Momma reached out, gently patting Miley on her shoulder. Miley sat there, her posture going entirely rigid, looking completely lost and uncomfortable as she was caught in the crossfire of a deeply personal family trauma.
"Miley seems to have problems of her own, Mom," I revealed, wiping the tear from my cheek with the back of my hand, my voice shaking with a mixture of anger and humiliation. "She don’t need my baggage dropped on her lap. Listen—no offense to you, Miley. I can see that you’re good people.
Truly, I can. Otherwise, Max wouldn't have been drawn to you like that. But I’m just not in the business of making friends anymore. "
I turned my head, glaring over at my mom, who knew better than to push me this far.
"The one and only true friend I ever had in this life happened to be a fucking snake, and she stung me right in my back when I wasn't looking," I revealed, the words tasting like copper in my mouth.
"I learned my lesson that day, mom. I learned it in blood, and I won’t ever let history repeat itself. I keep my door locked for a reason."
Miley shifted on the couch, her eyes moving between the two of us, the easy, playful demeanor she had possessed with Max completely vanishing.
"Listen... I have absolutely no idea what is happening right now," Miley said, her voice quiet, serious, and entirely guarded as she stood up from the velvet cushions, smoothing down her silk blouse.
"But I think it’s best if I just leave. I have a private dinner I need to attend to tonight anyway, and I don't want to get in the middle of family business. "
"Jesus Christ, Angela!" my mother fumed, turning on me with a look of pure disappointment. "Can you please, for once in your life, stop shunning everyone who tries to look at you?"
"I’m not shunning, Mom! I’m protecting!" I corrected her, my voice booming through the small apartment.
Without giving my mother another second to argue, I marched over to the front entryway, grabbing the handle and swinging the heavy door open. I stood there, my chest heaving, ushering Miley out into the hallway.
Miley picked up her Telfar bag, stepping past me with a cautious, quiet stride. She paused in the doorway, looking back at me with an expression that wasn't angry—it was just incredibly heavy, like she understood exactly what it felt like to be betrayed.
"I'll drop you off to your crib, Miley," Momma said from behind me, her voice tight with anger as she grabbed her car keys from the table, pushing past me to join Miley in the hall.
Max leapt out from the shadows of the hallway, racing back into the safety of the crib the second the door started to swing shut.