Kelani Knox Facebook ad: “HOT Stalker Mafia Dark Rom Com”

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Home & Garden

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I wake up to something that sounds like a dolphin being murdered. It takes my sleep-fogged brain several seconds to process that the sound is coming from my bathroom. That it's singing. Enthusiastic, off-key, completely unhinged singing. I stare at my ceiling, trying to remember when my life became whatever the hell this is. The shower turns off. The singing doesn't. Two days. Jada's been here for two days, and my entire existence has been flipped inside out and shaken like a snow globe. There are now googly eyes on my toaster. Googly eyes. Stuck there with what I'm assuming is industrial-strength adhesive because I tried to remove them yesterday and they wouldn't budge. "His name is Terry now," she'd informed me cheerfully. "Terry the Toaster. He looks friendlier this way, don't you think?" I didn't think Terry looked friendlier. I thought Terry looked possessed. But she'd been so pleased with herself, bouncing on her toes with that megawatt smile, that I'd just nodded and accepted that my kitchen appliance now had a name and an unsettling stare. The bathroom door opens and Jada emerges in a cloud of vanilla-scented steam, wearing one of my t-shirts and nothing else as far as I can tell. Her curls are wrapped in a towel piled on top of her head. "Good morning!" She's impossibly chipper for six-thirty in the morning. "Did you know your shower has amazing acoustics? It's like a concert hall in there." "I heard." "I bet you did." She grins, completely unrepentant. "I was really feeling that one. Journey just hits different in the morning, you know?" I have never once thought about how Journey hits in the morning. I've never thought about Journey at all except maybe that one time Danny got drunk and wouldn't stop playing one song on repeat. "Coffee?" I manage. "Oh my god, yes." She follows me to the kitchen, padding barefoot across my floors. "I love that you're a morning coffee person. Maya judges me for needing caffeine before I can form complete sentences, but it's a legitimate need." I make us each one, sliding hers across the counter. She catches it with both hands, inhaling deeply before taking a sip. "Perfect." She closes her eyes like I've just handed her liquid gold instead of basic dark roast. "You make good coffee." "It's just coffee." "No, no." She waves a hand at me. "There's coffee, and then there's coffee. This is the good kind. Strong enough to wake the dead but smooth enough that it doesn't taste like battery acid." She takes another sip. "Terry approves too." I glance at the toaster. The googly eyes stare back at me, judging. "Terry doesn't have taste buds." "Terry has opinions." She sets down her mug and moves to the fridge, pulling out eggs and butter like she lives here. Like this is normal. "What do you want for breakfast? I'm thinking omelets. Or pancakes. Ooh, or both. We could do both." "You don't have to cook." "I know I don't have to." She's already cracking eggs into a bowl. "But I want to. Besides, you've been feeding me for two days. It's my turn." She pauses, whisk in hand. "Unless you have some weird thing about people cooking in your kitchen? Some organized people are weird about their kitchen." "Cook whatever you want." "Excellent." The whisk starts moving at a speed that seems excessive for eggs. "Fair warning, I'm a messy cook. Maya says I cook like a tornado with ADHD. But I promise I'll clean up after." She's not wrong about the tornado thing. Within minutes, there's a dusting of flour on my counter—where the flour came from, I have no idea—and she's already used three different bowls for reasons I don't understand. But she's humming while she works, hips swaying to music only she can hear, and the whole scene is so bizarrely domestic that I can't look away.

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HOT Stalker Mafia Dark Rom Com

FREE In Kindle Unlimited