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“I’d like to volunteer as tribute to be your roommate. You can sleep in my bed.” Everyone in the room snickers. I look at him, unsure if he is kidding or not. When he winks, I realize I’m in way over my head in my new living arrangements. “With me, of course,” he adds. “But I won’t touch you.” Evan places my boxes on the floor and slaps the six-foot-something hockey player over the head. “I told you guys to be fucking normal. She’s my sister.”
“Get up.” It’s not a request. “I won’t get up,” I say. “But I sure will get off.”
Really? *gag*
Hands yank the back of my shirt and spin me around. I barely have time to brace myself before Evan slams me into the wall. He’s furious, judging by the way his chest is heaving.
“Is it Stone? What did he do to make you storm out onto the ice like that? I can piss in his Cheerios tomorrow morning if you want me to.”
“You still haven’t taken it down,” Evan points out. “Which you definitely should. Right now.” All eyes swing to me. Seriously? How did I become the bad guy?
Because you’ve done nothing but bad shit??
“You touch that status, and I guarantee I’ll stay in everyone’s room except yours.” “Well, you’re definitely not doing that.”
I realize two things at once. If she continues like this, she’s going to pass out. And…Evan is going to murder me either way.
“You’re so self-centered you planted drugs in my truck to save your own ass, Sticks. So shut the fuck up about being self-centered.”
He has a point
I glance at the clock and curse because I’m going to be late for my shift. And it’s all Stone’s fault.
Girl, do you ever take any accountability for your own actions?
If she were to ask—which she won’t. Because I’m stealth incarnate.
😂
“Are you propositioning me, baby?” She bites her lip to hide her smile and slowly nods. Oh, fuck. I’m a goner—and judging by the glimmer in her gaze, we both know it.
“I’m moving out.” “Over my dead fucking body.”
“You taste so good, baby. I’m never going to need another meal again as long as you keep your cunt wet for me.”
“You—you asshole,” she shouts, shoving me back a step. I catch her wrists and drag her in. I kiss her before she can stop me, nipping at her lower lip. “Mmm,” I whisper, “you should’ve just stayed in bed with me.” “I have to study,” she grits out.
When I finally get up next to her, she barely looks at me. Game on. I run my knuckles up her arm, across her shoulder and under her hair. She shivers when I grip the back of her neck lightly. “Excuse us,” I interrupt Abby. Ally. Whatever her name is.
“No girl of mine is going to wear another guy’s jersey,” I say quietly. I run my finger across her collarbone. “Well, the good news is—I’m not your girl.”
“You’re mine, Wren Davis. What more do I need to do to prove it? Fuck you in front of Evan? Get my name tattooed on your skin?” I cup her jaw, forcing her head up. “Or your name on me? Now that sounds tempting…”
“When I fuck you in this dirty storage closet, Sticks, there’s exactly one name you’re going to be screaming.” “Archer’s?” she sasses.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Wren mumbles. I raise my eyebrow. “I think everyone knew what was going on here, Sticks.” Evan’s face slowly turns red. “What?” I continue to Wren, rolling my eyes. “It’s not like you weren’t yelling, ‘Yes, Stone, fuck me harder!’ about two seconds ago.” And that’s how I end up getting punched by my best friend.
Taylor is standing in the doorway, and he’s furious. “Oh my God. We’re all just fucking elated that you two have made up, but we can celebrate later. We’re going to be late!”
“What’s up?” “You’re rich enough to afford your own place.”
Then what the hell was with all the drama at the beginning??
“Great,” Evan mutters. “More sex.” “The reprieve was kind of nice,” Grant agrees. I pick up a pad and chuck it at them. “Shut up, you assholes.”
She stiffens, turning sharply away from me and back to the chemicals at hand. Meth. Fuck. It dawns on me that she cooked for him, and that’s what she’s doing now.
… I’m not seeing the logic here. I’m not really versed in the world of drugs, but there must be better methods of finding a meth cooker. I know she’s really good, but what’s the long game?
“I think we’ve pieced together what happened, but if at any time I’m wrong, I need you to correct me. Okay?”
Okay, I may not know much about drugs, but I know A LOT about police procedures and there is no way this is how they would take her statement. Suspect or not
“And you are pardoned due to self-defense.” He pauses. “It was self-defense, correct? I can’t honestly think you willingly went to that trailer with those men.”
And a policeman can’t make that determination. And he just admitted that he isn’t 100% sure what went down. Are you kidding me??
As soon as he leaves the room, making sure to tell me how my act of self-defense was one that will be spoken of for decades, I slide out of bed.
Really? I’m not saying it wasn’t clever, but it wasn’t exactly legendary
Black dots dance in my vision, but I rip the heart monitor off my finger and grab onto the shiny IV pole, trailing it behind me like a shadow.
Wouldn’t they come rushing in because your heart suddenly stopped working?
My head is buried in his chest a breath later, and he kisses my temple softly. “I don’t know, sis. I don’t know.” An earth-shattering cry scrapes against my raw throat, and I shut out the pained faces of everyone staring at me. I don’t stop myself from yelling out his name, even if it comes out as a broken whisper. Stone may not hear me, but I know he’ll feel me.
Can we save the dramatics for if he dies? Or you actually know the extent of his injuries?
I’m not saying she can’t be emotional, but going into hysterics right now seems completely out of place
