Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers

Author:Morgan Rogers [Rogers, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Park Row Books
Published: 2020-12-15T19:15:36+00:00

Thirteen

Grace is trying to come to terms with her loneliness. It is not as clear-cut as being alone. She is not alone. But she finds herself missing the familiarity of Portland. She finds herself missing the rigidity of her academic schedule, the coziness of the White Pearl Tea Room. She misses the people that do not know Grace Porter taking a break and figuring things out, but Grace Porter in control, always in motion.

But she is taking a break, and she finds herself in NYC surrounded by people that do not judge her for it, no matter how much blame she aims at herself.

They’re in Sani’s bedroom. He’s icing bruised knuckles and trying to psych himself up to swallow down three ibuprofens.

“You just throw ’em back,” Yuki says. “We go through this every time!”

“And every time it’s traumatic!” he shouts back. “You’d think the billion-dollar pharmaceutical industry could make smaller pills. Some of us have delicate throats.”

Yuki makes a face at Grace, who’s trying not to laugh over her late-night onigiri. “Bet that makes you a hit in bed,” Yuki mutters.

Sani glares. “More than you,” he says, voice silky-smooth and dangerous. “Who exactly are you fingering with those ridiculous claws?”

Grace chokes. Yuki lets out an inhuman screech and launches herself across the room. She lands on top of Sani and they go crashing to the floor, while Grace watches from the bed.

“Is everybody okay?” Grace asks. “That sounded painful.”

Yuki sits up and lets out a long, anguished groan. “He started it.”

“Well,” Sani says huffily, not even bothering to get up, “you knocked over my pills and my water. Now I have to start that process all over again. It’s a very psychological experience for me.”

“I have no sympathy for you,” Yuki says, sending him a nasty glance. She checks over her newly painted pink nails. “I’m a femme who likes long nails, and I am very valid, thank you.”

“Hey, Yuki?” Fletcher calls suddenly. “There’s a guy at the door.”

“Does he live here?” Yuki calls back. “A lot of guys live here, maybe it’s one of them.”

There is just Fletcher’s pointed silence.

“No,” he says. “He does not live here.”

“Does he want to live here?” Sani yells. “Is he at least cute?”

“Can you assholes just—” Fletcher cuts himself off, murmuring low to whomever it is. “He says he’s here for Porter.”

Yuki and Sani look at her, and Grace looks back with wide eyes.

When she gets to the door, there is a guy waiting for her. A guy that smiles when he sees her, who has seen Grace at her very worst, snotty and bawling and angry. He smells like Portland redwoods and mamri tea.

“Raj,” she breathes out. She barrels into his solid frame and waiting arms. “What are you doing here? How did you even know where here was?” She burrows into his rain jacket and overflowing hair.

“You sent the address to everyone before you left, remember?” His fingers grip tight around Grace’s waist. “Just in case anything happened. The great Grace Porter, always prepared.

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