“Did I mention TJ fosters rescue animals?” “Stop,” she said, pointing at me with a red-tipped index finger. “You can’t manipulate me with—” “One is a cat that has wheels for back feet,” I interrupted, “and when he runs, they squeak like—” “Shut up,” she demanded, but exhaled a tiny laugh as she shook her head again. “The other one is blind—” “It is not,” she cried, looking defeated. “With bald spots from his feline anxiety, which I totally think they should call fanxiety because it makes him sound like a badass vampire cat—” “Fine!” Sophie interrupted, gritting her teeth and holding up a hand.
