"I TOTALLY GET IT NOW, you're right, these are amazing."

Noel looks up from behind his thick frames, a coffee hovering just below his lips and his dark hair still tousled with sleep. It's the first time he's torn his gaze from his phone screen since he'd sat on the couch twenty minutes ago, despite all my very convincing calls for him to come back to bed.

He tilts his head. "Are you wearing my boxers?"

I beam and continue strutting around the room, the silken black boxers I'd pulled from the bedroom floor brushing against my bare thighs. I'd considered going for the entire ensemble and grabbing his dress shirt to finish the outfit, but figured I'd more likely catch his attention with more skin than less, and swiped up my bra from the floor instead.

And judging by the way his eyes linger, it works.

I grin. "I mean, they're still super pretentious, don't get me wrong. But I also feel like a high-power CEO in these things. Get my faxes! Karen, make me an appointment! Tell the queen I must reschedule!"

A small smile curves on his face, lighting up all the way to his eyes. "I'm not a CEO, that's my uncle, remember? I do get to sit on the board, though."

I stop in my tracks, frowning. "Shit, really? Damn, bamboozled again. Could you be a darling and pass along his number to me, then?"

When his face immediately falls, I'm laughing. He smooths out his brows with a dry look, and I take this moment of distraction to cross the room and gently steal away his coffee cup, still chuckling. I'm surprised with how easily he lets me.

Instead, he arches his brow. "You know, I said I could make you a cup. You don't have to take mine."

I nod, taking a small sip before setting it down on the tempered glass and stainless steel end table. Noel is quick to lean over and slide a coaster underneath the mug, to which I roll my eyes. Still, I'm undeterred as I steal his divided attention and crawl into his lap, each leg on either side, caging him in underneath me. He's wearing just a soft cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, a side of him that excites me more than any pressed Armani suit, leaving little layers between the two of us.

"You know when a lady calls for you to come back to bed, you should listen to her," I say, reaching to grab his phone with little resistance on his part.

"Where's the lady here?"

"Noel!" I gasp, slapping his chest with the back of my hand. "Is this what you do? Trick girls into bed with you and then be mean to them?"

He tilts his head back. "Wasn't it you who tried to drunkenly grope me from the beginning?"

"Looks like it worked, so whatever." I shrug my shoulders.

His reply is only a muted smile, and a dip of his gaze from my eyes to my cupid's bow, communicating more than words ever could. I take his face in my palms and pull him close to me, already missing the warmth of his mouth on mine despite the night's worth of kisses we'd already shared. His lips are soft and familiar in an oddly comforting way, moving against mine with a natural sense of style that's too easy to get lost in.

Meaning, I'm surprised when he pulls away, eyes wide. "Cleopatra."

I crinkle my nose. "Listen, I'm a pretty open-minded person, but I don't think this is the type of roleplay I can get behind."

His eyes immediately re-calibrate into a deadpan. "If we're both here, there's no one to feed Cleopatra. We have to go back to Mark's."

"Isn't she smart enough to feed herself? Isn't that why you bought one of those fancy leopard cats in the first place?"

My response is him gently but still forcefully nudging me off his lap, letting me fall into the couch as he lifts to his feet. I pout, grabbing at the air and whining for him to come back, my skin already feeling too cold without his pressed against it, but he doesn't pay any mind to any of it, unfortunately. Instead, he throws me a look over his shoulder.

"Get dressed, I'm going to call a cab."

I shoot him a dry stare, but all he returns it with is a small smile that too endearing for his own good. It leaves little room for argument, though, even more so when he steps out of his room in a familiar pants and dress shirt combo that objectively looks good but is the exact opposite of what I want to see him in. With little choice and many loud and insistent complaints, I drag myself to a stand and sweep my little black dress off the floor, much less appealing in the morning light.

"Do you need clothes?" Noel asks, pausing in the doorway.

I'm still in the middle of the room, holding out the dress in front of me. "I know that I'd be super hot in your dress shirt and boxers, but we are going outside, Noel. Control yourself."

He scoffs, the edge of his mouth digging into his cheek. "My sister has clothes here- I'm sure you could fit into them."

I'm oddly surprised by this, even more so when he leads me to another room with a cream-coloured wardrobe tucked in the corner. When I pull open some drawers, I almost feel like an intruder to find an entire closet's worth tucked inside, from blouses to socks to more intimates. Noel doesn't seem to think anything of it as he toys with the cuff of his dress shirt behind me.

I pull out a pair of jeans with a frown. "Are these child's sizes?"

"She's got more than just jeans in there. You'll be fine. If you want, I can help you squeeze into them." His dark eyes flash.

I snort. "You've clearly never tried to fit your ass in skinny jeans before, there's probably nothing less sexy in the world other than a whale giving birth."

He laughs, and I return to rifling through the rest of the clothes, managing to find something that fits like she'd at least bought it from the adult's section- a tasteful pair of black trousers with gilded gold buttons. The fabric is soft under my fingertips, and when I take a glimpse at the tag inside, I parch.

"These are Cavalli," I choke out, eyes the size of saucers.

Noel tilts his head. "And?"

"These," I say, turning to him and holding up the pants. "These are rent. Probably rent times two, honestly."

"It's fine," he reassures me, dismissing my worries with a wave of his hand. "If anything, I'll just get her another pair. Don't worry about it, just put them on. Cleopatra's waiting."

I'm holding them as if someone has set a newborn child in my arms, drinking in every stitch in complete awe. The numbers are still ringing in my head as I slip them on, snug around me in the most luxurious of ways. When I stare at myself in the floor-length mirror, I feel as if I'm only two seconds away from getting football tackled by some beefy security man.

Something inside of me involuntarily warms, though, when he throws a pullover of his in my direction, smelling of fresh linen and sharp citrus. I have to hide my smile when I throw it on and grab my purse.

"So do I get like a goodie bag or something?" I ask when we step out of the elevator doors and into the soft cream and white oak of the lobby. "Some autographs, some jewelry? Anything that'll save me from eviction on eBay?"

Noel fixes me with a measured stare. "I'm not a baseball player. I don't think people care who I am unless they have a subscription to Forbes or Business Insider."

I cock a brow. "This sweater?"

"I like that sweater," he says, frowning.

"Not even for your favourite hooker?"

He shoots me a look.

I roll my eyes and laugh, pushing open the hotel doors and immediately greeted with the spring breeze, alive with the overflowing hum of the city. It's nice on my bare skin, the warmth a reminder of the summer only days away. It almost all dawns at me at once, how much time has passed, since Nat had first barged through my door with that glittering rock on her ring finger, to looking up in Mark's doorway to find that there wasn't a pizza delivery guy on the other side, but a man in a sharp suit with cold eyes instead. I can't help the small smile on my face as I watch him pull open the cab door, gesturing for me to go inside.

"Don't think I'm taking that ten thousand dollars off the table because you're opening some doors for me," I beam before tucking myself in the backseat.

Noel follows after me, and we settle a respectable distance away from each other, to both my understanding and dismay. It's only a minute into the car ride when his phone lights up, vibrating in his palm and capturing both of our attention.

Surprisingly, he lets the call die without answering.

"Important?" I ask, catching his eye.

"Work."

I pause, searching his face but finding nothing, an echo of when we first met, lips thin and eyes cool.

"On a Sunday?"

There's a small, heartless smile that slips on his face. "Hotels don't stop running on the weekend, unfortunately."

"What kind of work weeks are you pulling?" My eyes widen. "Shit, I complain when Marissa shows up late for her shift and I have to stay an extra hour."

His face is guarded in ways that I feel as whispers on the back of my neck. "That's why Mark got me Cleopatra- cats are nocturnal, after all."

"Why is she at Mark's then? Why don't you have her at your place?" The curiosity asks for me, before I realize my mouth is forming around the words.

"My sister- she doesn't like cats, and she's been staying with me the last couple of months. Problems with her husband," he explains, gazing back down to his phone that is already lit up with another call. "That's why Cleopatra has to stay at Mark's, hopefully not for much longer. Angelica doesn't like to be alone, but she's also stubborn as fuck."

There's a vulnerability that's so fresh on his face I want to kiss it. Instead, I offer him a half-smile.

"Runs in the family?"

There's a little more heart in the next smile that he shoots me.

The drive from Noel's to Mark's isn't too long, and he's still pretty absorbed in his phone when we pull up, which I don't mind too much. Every time he heaves a sigh, the bags under his eyes grow a little darker, but they're not as bad as they usually are. He's so consumed with the screen that he doesn't even realize that we've parked next to the curb of Mark's condo until I've already climbed out, trekked to the other side, and pulled open the door.

His eyes are wide when he peers up.

"We've arrived, Sir Carlton. Would you like me to grab your luggage? Can I interest you in a cappuccino? On the house, of course."

He rolls his eyes, passing over some bills to the driver before following out after me and back up into Mark's apartment.

Despite the neon coloured sticky notes that are dotting several surfaces of the apartment with various addresses scrawled on them of apartments up for rent, courtesy of Nat, there's still a home-like quality that greets me when I step inside. My sweater is hung up on the back of one of the chairs, a glass I'd left out still sitting on the countertop. I quickly swipe up one of the sticky notes from the cupboard as I grab a mug.

"Do you want water?" I ask, throwing a look over my shoulder to see Noel searching in the living room.

"I'm okay," Noel says, brows pinched. "Is Cleopatra in there?"

My eyes graze the tile floor, to the empty food bowl and water, finding no traces of the cat. "Nope! Which is weird, she's usually bounding up to me and declaring her undying love the moment I step through the door. Wonder what's up with her today."

When I meander my way into the living room, I find Noel crouched on the ground, peering underneath the couch. That characteristic frown is etched on his face.

"Can you help me look?"

I hum, taking a sip from my water. "What's in it for me?"

"You get to keep the pants."

I instantly perk up. "We're going on a cat hunt. Gonna catch a moody one!"

We finally find Cleo in the guest bedroom- a room she barely ventures into, probably feeling my presence in these four walls even when I'm not around, and preferring to not be tainted by my peasant aura. I see her distinctive striped tail first, the black tip followed by the golden brown, and then step inside to see the rest of her. Her green eyes barely acknowledge my presence, though, and return at lightning speeds back to the new addition that's sitting on my dresser.

I pause, blinking, frozen in the doorway. "What is that?"

Noel brushes passed me, immediately reaching to scoop Cleo up in his arms until he realizes that even he barely warrants more than a passing glance from the cat. I watch as he follows her fierce and unwavering gaze to the dresser.

"You have a fish?" he asks, turning to me with confusion reflected in his dark eyes.

I shake my head. "I do not have a fish."

He reaches for a note that's sitting next to a small bowl where a burst of red and purple is swimming around idly, and he scans what's written. "Seems like it's a bachelorette party gift from Cecilia?" he hazards, a frown tugging down his lips.

Something inside of me tightens. "What that seems like is a responsibility."

"Were we supposed to give out gifts? I mean, I got cigars for everyone..."

"I have to feed it every day?" I ask to no one in particular, wincing at the thought. "Like every day?"

Noel's scratching his jaw. "Would a cigar cover the gifts? I'm not sure, Mark didn't say anything about gifts, and I've never really done this before."

"I'm seriously going to be sent to fish hell if I kill another one of these guys." I'm pulling at the skin of my cheeks now. "I cannot go to fish hell, there's so many other kinds of hell that I'm already going to be going to."

"I should've asked Angelica on the etiquette for this kind of thing, she must know, I mean, she does this kind of thing all the time. It's basically her job. Why didn't I ask her?"

"Focus, Noel!" I snap, shaking my hands and causing him to pause with his mouth open mid-thought. "We've got bigger problems here than fucking etiquette!"

He blinks. "Actually, the fish is very small."

"Oh my god," I groan, unable to ignore the way that the dread is pooling at the base of my stomach. "I am filled with so much regret right now."

Which is true, for some reason that splash of indigo has my insides gnawing anxiously on themselves, something uncharacteristic forming in my throat. Even though this fish clearly doesn't give much thought to either of us standing here, or the cat staring at it with murder in her green eyes, it's somehow dredging up more than just the worry of a responsibility from the dark chambers inside of me. I swallow, hard.

With my hair still mussed from Noel's hands, and my legs firmly wrapped in a pair of pants I had no business even touching, standing in a condo that was never supposed to be mine, there're whispers of fraud in my ear.

"Why are you getting so upset over this? It's just a fish," Noel says, brows raised in my direction.

There's still hungover tequila lingering in the back of my throat, and I have to pause at the way the filtered sunlight pours in from the window, catching the Rolex on his wrist and the frames of his glasses.

"It's not just a fish, Noel," I insist, something harsh in the undertones of my voice.

His phone vibrates, and he checks it, again. "Just feed it," he murmurs, as if were the most obvious thing in the world. "You'll be fine, it's not rocket science by any means."

My jaw instinctively clenches at the dismissive tone in his voice. "Well, isn't that just so easy for you to say. I'm Noel, I can just pay someone to talk care of ten thousand fish because I have so much money and therefore I'm better than everyone."

The words are spilling out before I can stop them, and they hang in the air, wrapped up in a bitterness that's still lingering on my tongue. I can't find it in myself to take them back, and so I don't. Acid reflux is licking up my throat. Every sane voice inside of me is demanding that I avert my eyes, anywhere but his face, but I can't.

Noel pauses, taken aback, and meets my eye. Stone replaces all his features, gaze narrowed in a way that's scorching into me. "Vika, it's a fucking fish. Anyone can keep a fish alive."

There's a beat of quiet between us, my nerves still igniting under my skin and a nausea flooding in my stomach. I swallow.

"You're right," I concede, voice tight. "It's a fucking fish. You're right."

Despite my words, Noel visibly deflates, the coldness of his face evaporating to reveal a concern that doesn't comfort me at all. "Wait, that's not- I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine," I reassure him, my words still small. "It's- whatever. I'll see you later. Don't worry about it."

His brows furrow. "Where are you going? This is your place."

I pause in the doorway, drawing a deep breath, burdened by the newfound weight pressing against my chest. The words are stale, hiding behind my teeth all this time, and they taste bitter in my mouth.

"Noel, we both know this place was never mine."