Me: What’s wrong?
Eli: *sigh* so much. Come on, Fangirl, tell me something funny.
I roll my eyes, smiling.
He still calls me Fangirl when he wants to get me allriled up.
Me: Funny haha or funny weird?
Eli: Anything that would make me smile.
I glance up at Pea, who is currently stretched out like a lord on my sofa, one eye half-open in judgment.
I grimace. “Do you think we should tell him?”
Pea flicks his tail.
I exhale, shaking my head. Now’s as good a time as any. He’s going to howl with laughter.
Me: I live with a celebrity.
The typing dots appear instantly.
Eli: Yeah? A wannabe actor?
Me: More like a famous model.
Eli: Are you trying to make me jealous, Fangirl? That’s not very kind.
My cheeks burn, my stomach doing a stupid little flip.
We’re firmly crossing into flirting territory now.
Right?Right?
I purse my lips. I’m not sure, so I’ll send a screenshot to Maya later for confirmation.
Me: Do you have Instabook?
Eli: Who doesn’t?
Instabook—the current social media platform of choice, where people post photos and thirty-second videos to their followers.
Perfect.
He’s about to meet my famous model roommate.
And he has no idea what’s coming.
Me: Okay, look for “One-Eye Meow.”
Eli: You’re shitting me, aren’t you?
Me: No, deadly serious! Just do it, Elijah.
Eli: Oh, it’s Elijah now? I’m in trouble. *grinning emoji*
Fine, okay, I’m here. Dude, that cat has 874k followers? Is he wearing an eyepatch in every pic?
