I don’t leave Zuri’s side for three days. After two nights in the health center, she returns to her troop, and Keeva snuggles against her chest like no time has passed at all. Zuri’s eating and drinking normally, which points toward a full recovery, but I still sleep on my air mattress outside the gorilla quarters just in case. On my third night sleeping in Ape House, Kai whips out his own sleeping mat and sets it a safe distance from my air mattress.
“What?” he asks as I eye him suspiciously. “If anyone sees me here, they’ll just assume I’m getting footage. Which I am.” He points to the camera beside him. “I’m definitely not here to keep you company.”
I can’t help but smile. “I have company,” I say, nodding toward the troop.
“Let me clarify: human company. I don’t need you going full Jane Goodall and moving in with the gorillas.”
I laugh. “They’re better company than most people.”
“I don’t disagree.”
Zuri makes little grunting noises in her sleep, and I watch as she shifts her weight from one side of her night nest to the other.
“I still wonder if I should tell Phil I can’t go to San Diego,” I tell Kai. “It doesn’t feel right to leave her while she’s recovering.”
“I know it’s hard, but just think how close you are to that promotion,” he says. “Plus, you’ll get to hang out with me. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m really good with my hands. And my mouth. And my—”
“Stop,” I insist. Three days of not leaving the zoo means three days of not visiting Kai in his hotel, and I don’t need any reminders of what I’m missing. My body knows it all too well.
He smirks. “Fine. But don’t forget, if you come to San Diego, you’ll get to meet the one and only Dr. Kimber. And I’m pretty sure that’s on the Lucy Rourke bucket list, right under running Ape House and marrying the brothers from Zoboomafoo.”
“I’d settle for one brother,” I joke, causing Kai to scrunch his nose in mock annoyance. “But yes, I can’t believe I’ll actually get to meet your mom.” I remember all the times I read her book and watched Majesty on the Mountain as a kid, wishing I could have a mother as great as her. “Is she as marvelous in person as she seems?”
For a split second, Kai’s jaw tenses, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong. God, does he think I’m sleeping with him just to get to Dr. Kimber? Does he think I’m like Antonia, only with worse fashion sense? But then he flashes his characteristic stay-wild grin, and the moment passes before I’m sure it happened at all.
“She’s one in a million,” Kai promises, and I make a mental note to pack my bobblehead. He pulls out his laptop and a set of AirPods and passes one of the earbuds to me. “Wanna watch our show? I want to see if Melanie and Devar actually get married.”
For a second, I think “our show” refers to Wild Side, but I quickly realize he’s talking about 90 Day Fiancé. The realization that Kai and I have a show sends a jolt of electricity through me. Isn’t “our show” a couple-y thing to have? Do friends with benefits sleep on uncomfortable-looking pads that sit three inches off the cement floor to keep each other company? And do they share AirPods and Snickers bars and kiss their friend’s forehead while she sobs against their chest?
“We can watch Tiny House Nation if you’re burned out on bad relationships,” Kai offers, still holding the earbud toward me.
“90 Day Fiancé is perfect,” I say, accepting the earbud. I slide it into my ear as Kai slides one into his, and he sets his laptop on the floor between us so we can watch Kyle and Noon’s Buddhist temple wedding.
I don’t know if I’m doing this whole no-strings thing correctly. If I don’t want a commitment, then why do I want to curl up next to Kai on his pathetic sleeping pad and snuggle into the nook between his neck and shoulder? If this is only a fling, why does the thought of him packing up at the end of the summer, leaving me to watch crappy reality TV all by myself, sound so unbearable? And why can’t I get Elle’s warning—happiness and success are not the same—out of my head, even if I know she’s wrong?
“Hey, Lucy,” Kai whispers, shifting his weight onto his elbow and turning sideways to face me. “Owls don’t have eyeballs.”
I don’t know the answers to my own questions. But I do know that when Kai holds his hand out toward me, bridging the gap between his mat and mine, I want to reach out and grasp it.
And so I do.