If You Hate Me

by Helena Hunting

Tristan is peeing. He lists to the right and grabs the edge of the vanity to keep from falling over and completely misses the toilet. I hope there’s more than one bathroom in this place.

Who is he to look down on those who appreciate unlimited salad and garlic bread?

“Oh, God.” She presses her hand to her chest. “Living with these two must be hellish.”

I might loathe him with the fire of a thousand burning yeast infections, but if he finds me attractive, I can use that to my advantage.

It has no doors, so the shower is my only private time.” Hammer puts a hand to her chest. “Please tell me the showerhead is removable.” “Unfortunately, it’s not.” “You poor thing.” Hammer’s tone is full of empathy.

Maybe it’s taking her a minute to get her bearings and realize this is a colossally bad idea. Because it is. It’s the worst idea ever. She’s my best friend’s sister. The last person I should touch.

“I’m trying not to be obvious, and it’s hard when you look like that.” She flings a hand toward me. “Like what?” I run a palm down my chest. I’m wearing a T-shirt and joggers. She rolls her eyes. “A snack.” I smirk. “You should come to my bedroom later. I’ll give you something to snack on.”