“Okay,” Beryl said quickly, unlinking our arms.

Hearts pounding, I tugged my hand out of my pocket and awkwardly lifted the side of my coat so she could burrow underneath. Tingles raced over my skin as she slid her arm around my waist beneath my coat, and after a second I settled my arm lightly over her shoulders.

Clearing my throat, I hoarsely asked, “Warmer?”

“Yes. Thanks, Greid.”

“No problem.”

Was I sweating? Her head was basically in my armpit. Had I put on deodorant? Oh god, I hadn’t. At least I’d had a bath, but then I’d power-walked so I wouldn’t be late meeting Beryl. Did I stink? Should I ask her? No, that would be weird.

When we reached the house, I reluctantly lifted my arm so Beryl could slip out from beneath my coat and walk up the steps. Cold air rushed in and snuck through my loose-knit sweater, making me shiver as I followed her.

Beryl unlocked and opened the front door, but paused at the sound of something dragging over the floor as the door swung inward. “What’s that?”

Seeing as I hadn’t lit any candles before I left, I flicked on the main light and winced at the staticky hum from the lightbulb. Stepping inside after her and closing the door, I looked down and saw the boxes I’d kicked inside before rushing out. “Oh, some packages that got delivered.”

“What are they?” Beryl asked with interest as she tugged off her boots.

I shrugged, leaning down to do the same. “I dunno. I can’t remember ordering anything.”

She shrugged out of her coat. “Is it jewellery stuff?”

“Maybe. You can open them if you want.” I held out my hand for her coat, then turned to hang it up as she knelt down by the boxes.

As I took off my own coat, I heard the rip of cardboard followed by the crinkle of plastic. Then: “Scrub… Shoes?”

Gut lurching, I whirled around, staring as Beryl pulled out the ugliest pair of plastic shoes I’d ever seen. With scrubbing brushes for soles.

“Huh?” I said, deciding to feign ignorance.

Beryl pursed her lips, clearly fighting off laughter as she looked up at me. “Did you order these, Greid?”

“What?” I laughed unconvincingly. “Why would I… Maybe they were delivered to the wrong house.”

She immediately grabbed the box and peered at the label. “Mmnope, addressed to Greid var Rorik.” Pulling a coupon out of the box, she added, “This says you get ten percent off your next purchase for being such a loyal customer.”

“Loyal?” I let out a squawk that was supposed to be laughter. “I’ve maybe ordered, like, one thing from them before. I can’t even remember…”

As I trailed off, knowing she could see right through my terrible lying skills, Beryl stood up, still holding the shoes. God, they were hideous.

“Will you put them on for me, Greid?” she asked solemnly.

I glared at her, my ears fluttering madly. “Why don’t you put them on?”

“They’re in your size.”

“That’s just… a coincidence!” I grabbed the shoes with a huff. “Fine.”

Face hot, I shoved the ugly shoes on and straightened. All the bristles immediately bent under my weight, making me topple forward and pinwheel my arms until I managed to catch myself against the wall. “Oh my god, they suck.”

Beryl was snorting with laughter, her nose running and tears leaking from her eyes. “Can you even walk in them?”

“I don’t think—” I tried taking a tentative step forward, lifting my leg high as if that would soften the impact. I wobbled precariously, but it worked, so I did it again.

“You look—” Beryl was practically crying, almost doubled over. “You look like a cat wearing socks.”

“I shouldn’t have showed you that video,” I muttered, but snorted with laughter as I found my stride and managed to make it down the hall, still walking like an idiot. “Did it.”

“Well done,” Beryl said, wiping her eyes as I sat on the stairs to pull them off. “Are you actually gonna use them? What are they even for?”

“They’re for cleaning your porch steps,” I grumbled. “They seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Really?” Beryl glanced back at the front door. “Are our porch steps really dirty?”

My face spikes flexed with pleasure at hearing her call them our porch steps. Beryl saw this as her home—our home—and that made me embarrassingly happy.

It also made me realise that she deserved to see all of it. Sighing, I gave her a resigned look, the ugly shoes dangling from my fingers by their Velcro straps. “I guess it’s time I showed you my Room of Shame.”

“Your what?” She stilled, eyes snapping with excitement. “Wait… the mysterious closet?”

Coughing awkwardly, I admitted, “It’s not actually a closet.”

A closet would have been far less embarrassing than an entire room filled with crap like this. Heaving myself up from the step, I turned to head upstairs. “Come on.”

“Wait.” Beryl pointed at the other package when I glanced back. “What about that one? Is it something similar?” she asked, far too eagerly.

“I can’t actually remember ordering anything else,” I admitted sheepishly. Leaving the ScrubShoes on the stairs, I hurried over and snatched the package up.

Beryl laughed as I turned my back on her to open it, just in case it was something even worse than the ScrubShoes. My shoulders slumped in relief when I tore open the box and realised what it was.

“Okay, well,” I said imperiously as I turned to face her, “it’s actually something for you, but maybe I won’t give it to you now that you’ve mocked me for the shoes.”

Except I was already passing the box to her, because I couldn’t deny Beryl anything.

Her eyes lit up as she took it. “It’s something for me? Is it my own pair of ScrubShoes?”

I huffed. “No.”

Shifting self-consciously, I watched as she pulled out a pair of small, fluffy bootie slippers. “Um, these ones should fit you.”

She beamed up at me, green eyes still a little glassy from crying with laughter. “They’re amazing. Thank you so much, Greid.”

“S’okay,” I mumbled, face spikes flexing with pleasure as she immediately put them on.

“It’ll be nice not worrying about tripping and breaking my neck as I go up the stairs,” she said with a laugh. She hesitated before darting forward to give me a hug. “Thank you, Greid.”

“S’okay,” I repeated in a strangled voice, wanting to clutch onto her and not let go.

She stepped back and fixed me with a stern look. “Okay, show me the closet. Or not-closet.”

“Okay,” I croaked, quickly turning for the stairs to hide my twitching ears. It did things to me when she got bossy like that.

I realised Beryl had grabbed the matches when she stopped on the stairs to start lighting the wall sconces.

“We can just use the lights,” I told her. “Sorry, I took a nap before coming to meet you and woke up late.”

“No,” she said stubbornly, moving to light the next one. “I know you don’t like them.”

My chest squeezed tight. Fuck, I wanted to kiss her so bad. “Thanks,” I rasped.

“Besides, I prefer candlelight now too.” She kept her gaze fixed on the next wall sconce as she lightly asked, “It’s kind of romantic, isn’t it?”

I managed to get out a strangled, “Um, yeah. I’ll help.”

Fumbling to grab a match from the box, I struck it and started lighting candles with her. By the time we reached the third floor, I was feeling less antsy. Doing this always soothed me, and I loved it on the nights Beryl helped.

The nerves returned as we stood outside the door to my Room of Shame. Taking a deep breath, I opened it and felt around on the wall for the light switch. Candles in here were a bad idea, given the amount of cardboard and cheap, ridiculously flammable fabric.

Beryl blinked in shock at the mountain of boxes stacked precariously along the sides of the room. In the centre was a pile of stuff I’d gone through at one point or another while looking for something I’d bought, but a lot of it was still in the boxes, never used.