I would raise my hands in the air so I don’t get knifed to death, but I’m sort of loaded down with breakfast goods-goods for me and Nathan, not Miss Screechy.
THE CHEAT SHEET SARAH ADAMS FULL
“DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” she screeches, and I immediately roll my eyes, because why does she have to be so screechy? She sounds like a clothespin is pinching the bridge of her nose and she has recently inhaled a whole balloon full of helium. We’re separated by a massive island, but from the way her eyes are bugging out, you’d think I was holding matching cutlery against the jugular vein in her neck. She’s clutching a butcher knife to her chest. Peeking around the corner, I find a woman wearing a light pink shorts-and-camisole sleep set pressed into the far corner of the wraparound white marble kitchen counter. ATTENTION ALL SEXY QUARTERBACKS! COVER YOUR GOODS! A GREEDY-EYED WOMAN IS IN THE HOUSE! A high-pitched yelp sounds from the kitchen, and I immediately frown. Using the heel of my tennis shoe, I slam the front door shut with enough gusto to warn Nathan that I’m on the premises. I know this smell so well I think I could follow it like a bloodhound if he ever goes missing. The moment I step inside Nathan’s apartment (which really should not be called an apartment because it’s the size of five large apartments smooshed together), the familiar clean and crisp scent of him knocks into me like a bus. I have fair skin, so there’s a one million percent chance it’s going to leave an angry red mark. I hiss when I turn the lock and a splash of coffee darts out onto my wrist through the little hole in the lid. But because I’m the best friend a person could ever ask for-which I will remind Nathan of as soon as I make it inside his apartment-I manage it. Balancing two cups of burning hot coffee and a box of donuts while trying to unlock a front door is not easy.
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