“This wasn't really casual before you joined in—no offense.” Muse sets the book aside and rises to his feet, crossing his arms over the red wife beater he's wearing, his silver mohawk falling onto his forehead, wet and dripping from the shower he took while I tried to read. “But you're right—we should define the rules more clearly.” “Bloody rules,” Pax says, rolling his eyes and rising to his feet like he doesn't give a shit. But when he passes by me, our arms brush and I get this scalding thrill through my body that doesn't lie. He really does give a shit. A lot of them, maybe. “Typical,
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