Jesus.
I was going to die.
Why hadn’t I brought water? I’d opened a bottle literally five minutes before I left. Was this why Halley ran with me? To remind me how to adult? To fitness? To human?
No wonder I was the only single one out of the three of us. Reagan didn’t run, but even she wouldn’t forget this.
Wheezing, I leaned against a tree. Sweet baby Jesus on horseback. This exercise shit was not for the weak-hearted.
That was me.
I was the weak-hearted.
I doubled over, bracing my hands on my knees. My ponytail swung down the side of my face, and I had to adjust my glasses to stop them falling off my face. The stitch in my side was going to make me pass out if I didn’t get control of my breathing in the next, oh, point-five of a second.
“Ava?”
I jerked my head up at the sound of my favorite firefighter. All right, the only firefighter I knew. “Noah!” I breathed.
He raised one eyebrow, lips twitching, and looked me over. “You all right there?”
“No,” I replied. “Can you carry my body to the apartment and make sure someone tells my parents that I love them?”
He laughed and held out his water bottle. “Why don’t you try this?”
I basically snatched it out of his hand and glugged half the bottle down. I instantly felt better, sighing as I handed the bottle back.
Noah grinned. “Keep it. I’m done anyway.”
“You’re my hero.”
“Perfect. Just Halley to go, and I’ve officially saved the lives of all three of you.”
I burst out laughing. “Two outta three ain’t bad. At least we know what to write on your gravestone now.”
He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Noah Jacobs, life-saver and all-around hero.”
“I’ll make sure to write that down so nobody forgets.”
“Good thinking. After all, if you keep running without water, you’re probably going to die first, then nobody will agree that should be on my grave.”
“You’re so thoughtful.”
“I know.” He winked. “I’ve gotta get to work, so I’ll see you later.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the water. Go be a hero.”
His laughter followed him as he jogged in the direction of his house. I hadn’t realized that I’d come this far into the park—I usually turned around before now. No wonder I was half dead.
I finished the water and turned, heading back toward my apartment. The run hadn’t worked out as much nervous energy as I’d hoped, and by the time I got back home, all it’d done was give me a huge stitch and a thirst I couldn’t quench.
Ugh.
I dropped onto the sofa and turned on the TV, turning on Netflix. It was logged out, of course, so I typed in my password and logged in.
Or tried to.
The password was wrong. Because I’d changed it…
And I couldn’t remember the new one.
God. Damn. It.
***
I kicked the front door shut behind me and paused. Ethan was sprawled out on the sofa, legs wide open, scratching his balls, with the hedgehog on his bare chest.
“Honey, I’m home,” I drawled. “And what a welcoming sight.”
He leaned his head back. “Hello, darling, how was work?”
I snorted and dumped my purse on the floor by the door as I kicked off my shoes. “What are you watching?”
“Some documentary about the Patriots.”
“Did you get cable back?”
“No. You left your Netflix account logged in.”
I paused with my hand stuck in the fridge. Crap. All that changing the password shit was really screwing with me. “Aw, shit. I knew I’d forgotten to do something. You didn’t delete my profile, did you?”
“No. And stop shouting. Mr. Prickles is sleeping.” He swung his leg down from the back of the sofa and sat up, cradling the hedgehog.
This was way weirder than I’d ever imagined it being. “What did you do, then? I know you did something.”
Ethan got up and shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. Check if you don’t believe me.”
“I will.” I pushed the fridge door shut and stalked over to the sofa as he disappeared into his room. I hit the back button on the remote, and it took me back to the main Netflix screen. I checked the profiles, and he was right—he hadn’t messed with it.
I frowned.
This was unnerving. Why wouldn’t he? If it were me, I’d have changed the password and the email address just to be cruel.
Then again, we weren’t being cruel. We were being passive-aggressive assholes.
I scrolled through the options and paused at my list. There were three shows I hadn’t added, and a flick through proved more.
They were—
Oh, my God.
He’d added his shows to my list.
My recommendations were going to be all messed up.
“See? Told you I didn’t do anything.” Ethan grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap with a hiss.
I turned to look at him. “You took over my account.”
He shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do? If I made another profile for me, you’d have deleted it again. I figured putting my shows on your profile was safe.”