Nya stood up, eyeing me suspiciously, but she headed toward the guest bedroom. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and glanced toward my bedroom. The closet door was still closed. Thank God.
I followed Nya to the guest room, trying to act casual. She opened the closet and started rummaging through my shoe collection like she was shopping at Nordstrom.
"Damn, you got a lot of shoes," she muttered. "How you afford all this shit?"
"You know how," I said flatly.
"Right, right," she said, pulling out the YSL heels. "Pussy pay the bills."
"And it pay 'em well," I shot back.
She tried on the heels, checking herself out in the mirror. "These cute. I might not give 'em back."
"Bitch, you better," I said, crossing my arms.
Nya laughed, slipping the heels off and putting them back in the box. "I'm just playing. I'll bring 'em back tomorrow."
"You better."
She grabbed the box and we headed back toward the living room. I thought I was in the clear. I really did. But then I heard it.
A sneeze.
A loud-ass, unmistakable sneeze coming from my bedroom.
Nya stopped dead in her tracks. Her head turned toward me slowly, like something out of a horror movie.
"What was that?" she asked.
"What was what?" I said, my voice going up an octave.
"That," she said, pointing toward my bedroom. "That sound."
"I didn't hear nothing," I lied.
Nya's eyes narrowed. "Sia, don't play with me. Who the fuck is in your room?"
"Nobody," I said, but my voice cracked.
"Mmhmm," she said, dropping the shoe box on the couch and marching toward my bedroom.
"Nya, wait?—"
But it was too late. She swung my bedroom door open and stood there, hands on her hips, scanning the room like a detective. Her eyes landed on the closet.
"Sia," she said slowly, "why is your closet door cracked?"
"It's always cracked," I lied again.
"No the fuck it ain't," she said, walking toward it.
"Nya, don't?—"
She yanked the closet door open.
And there he was.
Dose, standing in my closet, looking irritated as hell, his head damn near touching the top shelf.