Belle's mouth twisted into the smile she saved for news she'd been dying to deliver. She leaned against the ruined doorframe, then jerked her shoulder away from it because the paint was still warm.
"She left four minutes ago," Belle reported. "She dried her uniform with her bare hands in your bathroom, and now your mirror has a crack down the middle. Then she walked out your front door and left a handprint scorched into the outside of it."
"That's my security deposit, Belle."
"That's your problem, Monroe." Belle tapped her screen, and her expression shifted into the one she wore when a column refused to balance. "She took your grey crew neck on the way out. I want it entered into the record that I stole that crew neck first, so she's technically a second-generation thief."
Naomi snorted so hard she had to sit down on the edge of my bed.
