Fishbowl by Sarah Mlynowski

Author:Sarah Mlynowski
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2002-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Fab! The slits of sky I can see through my blinds are the color of blueberry yogurt, and patches of exposed sun are casting splashes of lemon over my walls and bedspread.

Mmm. I’m hungry.

Good morning, world!

You know those days when you wake up smiling for no specific reason? There was no late-night telephone call from the guy you like, no reading about how Tom and Mary finally confessed their love for each other in the last paragraph of a seven-hundred-page romance novel, no knowing that you have fresh bagels and lox and whipped cream cheese in your fridge ready for your breakfast—but you feel great, anyway. You inhale the happy, beautiful air, and your room looks soft and golden, and you’re excited to get up, get out of bed, and just be.

That’s how I feel right now. There’s no reason, except what’s not to be happy about? I have two great roomies and we’re having a party. Fine, we have no kitchen and we could get kicked out of the apartment at any time because of it, but Jay and Emma keep promising that we won’t. Okay, so here’s the real reason for my good mood: I called Clint last night and told him about the party, and he’s coming! I haven’t seen him in over a week. And he hasn’t even met my roomies yet, isn’t that crazy?

Clint is coming!

I’m supposed to tell Josh about the party, too. He must have repairman friends that we haven’t advertised to yet. I gave him a key so I don’t have to wake up every morning to let him in, and I can already hear him scurrying around in the kitchen. I slip on my slippers, pull an oversize sweatshirt over my T-shirt and sweatpants and totter into the kitchen. “Morning!”

He’s leaning forward on his knees, a tape measure stretched from what was once the stove, to that space between his legs where I’m not exactly looking. He looks up and smiles. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Ah, if only I had my prince to kiss and wake me! “It’s not that late. What time is it?”

He sits back on his legs (I’m still not looking) and looks down at his watch. “Ten-thirty.”

“Ten-thirty? I don’t think that makes me Sleeping Beauty.” I yawn and cover my mouth so he doesn’t get a whiff of my morning breath.

“You’re normally up at ten.”

Hmm. How long has he been studying my sleeping habits? Is this significant? This must be significant. “Were you getting lonely?” I ask. It’s so easy to flirt when you don’t mean it. It’s good practice for Clint, anyway.

“My job is a lot more fun when you’re around. I brought you breakfast.”

“You did? That’s so sweet.”

He holds up a carton of eggs and a mini bag of cheese. “We’re going to make omelettes in the sandwich-maker.”

“I can’t wait to put something solid inside me.” Uh-oh. Did I just say that? That could be interpreted in a very different way than intended. “Um…Did I tell you I’ve been making pizza all the time?”

“I bet you want to make it every night.

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