H
Harley
"You wouldn't believe the look on his face. It was hilarious, loved it," I say, heading toward the kitchen. I can already hear Maria humming as she works, and I smile briefly before grabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter.
"Uh-huh. Harls," Rebecca replies casually, but her tone betrays her—distracted, tired. It's that same distant edge she gets when she's buried in her work.
I sigh as I take a bite, the crunchy apple filling the silence for a moment. "Hey, could you at least pretend to sound interested in what I have to say, Becks? Even my Momo, my cat, would give a better reaction." I tease, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear, taking another chunk out of my unwashed apple. I swipe the juice away with the hem of my shirt.
Rebecca grunts in response, barely audible through the static of her typing.
"Uh-huh. I'm interested," she mutters, but if my phone weren't so close to my ear, I would've missed the clack of her keyboard.
