KNOX’S POVTheo Gallagher’s apartment smells exactly as I expect - like dryer sheets and instant ramen and loneliness.I’m sitting on his couch uninvited with my boots on his coffee table and a beer I took from his fridge sweating in my hand while he stands in the doorway of his own living room looking at me with the expression of a man who is trying to decide whether running would make things worse.It would. For the record.“Door was unlocked,” I say, and take a drink of his beer which is cheap and tastes like someone brewed it in a bathtub, but I’m not here for the hospitality. “You should fix that. Dangerous neighbourhood.”“Get out of my apartment.”“Sit down, Theo.”He doesn’t obey. He stands in the doorway with his keys in his hand and his jaw set and his pulse hammering at a rate I can hear from the couch – a hundred and twelve beats per minute.I respect the not-sitting. It’s stupid, but I respect it.“I’m fucking her.”The words land in his living room the way I intended the
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