Something I Don't Know

6: not everyone has the same taste in movies

Some part of me is worried I'll walk into Safiya's apartment to find Jamie tied to a chair or dangling out of a window or locked in a closet somewhere, so I'm pleasantly surprised when Midge and I arrive to find them sitting congenially beside each other on the couch.

I knock on the doorjamb with a fist, and Safiya looks up, her eyes narrowing as soon as they find my face. She jumps to her feet, the television remote clattering to the ground as she does. "You," she says, "are a snake."

Midge grabs my arm, and it's the only thing that really stops me from turning invisible again. Jamie has forgotten about the TV, and now he's sitting up, his hair ruffled where he was lying down against the couch.

"You're always alone," I say to Safiya, with a shrug. "Maybe I just thought you needed some company."

"Even if I wanted company, I would not search for it in a loud, hyperactive werewolf. Today was supposed to be calm. Today was supposed to be cool. Today, I was supposed to be by myself, but now, just because you want to go off and screw your girlfriend—"

Midge's face turns a radioactive shade of red. "That's not at all what we were doing."

I bump Midge with my hip. "I wish that's what we were doing."

Midge's face turns an even more highly radioactive shade of red; she lifts a palm to cover it. "Grey, please. You're not helping."

Chuckling, I stride into the living room, patting Safiya once on the shoulder. She regards my hand as if it's a mosquito that's just landed on her, and swats at it, scowling at me. I collapse onto the couch, kicking my feet up in Jamie's lap, which he allows, because he is Jamie.

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy having Jamie around at least a little bit," I say, gesturing towards the kid. "I mean, look at him. He's an angel."

Jamie beams.

Reluctantly, Safiya ruffles his hair.

Midge makes her way over to a tiny plush ottoman, easing herself down on the edge of it. She takes a moment to find her balance, then exhales, resting her elbows on her knees. "If you've had the television on in the past half hour—which it seems like you have—you saw Anik's invitation, didn't you?"

Safiya scoffs, flipping a cascade of black-brown hair over her shoulder. "As if anyone's going to show up to that goon's little pity party."

"Actually," I cut in, "I was thinking: maybe we should."

Safiya's huge eyes bore into mine for what feels like eternity, until I start to squirm. She's waiting for me to take that back, which I'm not going to do, which I think she knows. Honestly, it's a massive waste of time.

Finally, her expression flickers towards obvious disbelief. "Every time I think you've reached the peak of idiocy, you surprise me once again, Grey Meesang."

"It's not the worst idea he's ever come up with," adds Midge, and I give her a strange look, which she ignores.

"True," allows Safiya, crossing her knee high-clad legs as she balances herself on the arm of the sofa. "Still, I'm not going. The man kidnapped you for the sole reason of small talk, which is torture in itself. You're gonna walk right into his hands again?"

I stretch my arms beneath my head, craning my neck back to look at the ceiling fan—immobile. It's burning hot in here, now that I think about it; not that Safiya would notice, being undead and all. "We know he's weird, Safi. You said so yourself. What better way to understand his weirdness than to go to this thing?"