"You could've moved," he mutters, walking past me.
"I was about to!"
He surveys the destruction. Books everywhere. The bookcase lying face-down across the mattress stack.
"What the fuck is all this," he says flatly.
"Slumber party." I gesture at the wreckage. "Obviously."
Raf has the good sense to look apologetic as he rights the bookcase. "My bad."
"Your bad is correct," Rex says. He starts picking up books and stacking them. Organizing them by size, I notice, because ofcourseRex alphabetizes under stress.
Phoenix emerges from the kitchen with his popcorn bowls held above his head like he's fording a river. "What happened?"
"Raf tried to kill me," I say.
"It was anaccident?—"
"I mean, it would've been an epic way to go. Death by literature." I'm already reassembling the nest. Smoothing the throws, restacking pillows displaced by the impact.
Between Raf and Phoenix, the bookcase goes vertical again. Books are reshelved. The mattresses are realigned.
The nest is complete.
It'smagnificent.
Three mattresses layered edge to edge, covered in throws and blankets, ringed by pillows, the weighted blanket folded at the center like a cocoon waiting for a body. The sectional curves along one edge, creating a natural wall. Phoenix's sherpa throw is draped over the highest pillow bank.
Not a nest.
Asleep zone.
"Blood Meal," I announce, grabbing the remote.
"What?" Phoenix asks warily.
"The movie. It's calledBlood Meal. It's terrible." I'm already scrolling through streaming options. "Low-budget seventies slasher. The kills are so bad they loop back around to being art."
"I'm in," Raf says immediately, flopping onto the mattress pile and sinking approximately eight inches into the pillow layer. "Ohfuck, this is comfortable."
Phoenix settles in beside him, taking up half the available real estate. He sets the popcorn bowls between them.
I look at Rex.
He's standing at the edge of the living room, arms crossed, watching the three of us with an expression that suggests he'd rather gargle broken glass than participate.
"Don't look at me like that," he says.
I bat my eyelashes at him.
His eye narrows. "I'm not joining you."
"Yes you are."
"No."
"Rex." I pat the empty space beside me. "Get in the cuddle pit.”