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Tristan scoffs, and Flip arches a brow.
“Anyway.” I grip the edge of the island, but it’s sticky with orange juice, so I go back to holding my coffee cup. “On Sunday night they were dressed up in steampunk, which is totally fine. They have great costumes.” There’s an entire room dedicated to their roleplay costumes and props. And Eugenia makes most of them. She’s super talented. “Except they tried to get me to dress up as a pirate and…plunder them.” With a pegleg.
Flip’s bottom lip juts out. “Plunder them?”
“They have an open relationship, and they wanted me to join them.” I said no several times in the months I lived there, but they kept asking and putting me in awkward situations. I should have known the cheap rent was too good to be true.
Tristan bursts out laughing.
“Fuck you, asshole.” I flip him the bird.
“Are they hot? I mean, it’d be fun if they were hot,” Flip says, oblivious to how gross that is coming from my brother.
“It doesn’t matter if they’re hot. They’re my roommates. Were my roommates, because I can’t live there.” The roleplay isn’t the issue. It’s more what happened two nights ago and when I came home from work last night.
“Can’t you say no and leave it at that?” Flip asks.
“I’ve tried. More than once. Instead of respecting my boundaries, two nights ago they had excessively loud sex until three in the morning in the living room.” I was stuck in my bedroom, unable to pee until they finally went to bed. It was awful and may have contributed to my rage-quitting, although I didn’t love the job to begin with.
“Sounds familiar,” Tristan mutters into his coffee cup.
“Whatever, man. You’ve been part of the equation on plenty of occasions, so don’t bitch about how hard it is to be my wingman,” Flip retorts.
I gag. Those are not details I need. I hope I’m not trading a shitty situation for an even worse one. “You two are disgusting.”
“I’m in my twenties, and women literally throw themselves at me. I won’t be this pretty or virile forever. It’s about capitalizing while I can.” Flip has the nerve to sound defensive.
“What he said,” Tristan agrees like the fuckboy he is.
“I can’t wait for the regular season when we get to play in Vancouver.” Flip’s eyes are all dreamy and far away. “They have the best bunnies.”
“Accurate.” Tristan sips his coffee thoughtfully.
“Anyway.” I’d rather talk about my ex-roommates than my brother’s exceptionally prolific sex life. “They were at it again in the living room when I came home last night. I decided I’d had enough, so here I am. It’ll only be for a few days. Or a week at most.” I hope. “I just need to find a new job and an apartment.” Apart from staying at a hotel, which I can’t afford for long, this is my only option. My parents live three hours away in buttfuck-nowhere northern Ontario, and my best friend is on the other side of the country in Vancouver, where the best bunnies reside. God, I miss Essie so much.
“We start training camp next week and then exhibition games, so if you need more than a week to figure shit out, that’s cool. Right, Tris?”
Tristan gives me a withering look. “It’s fine, I guess. Just stay out of my shit.” Seems offering me a coffee refill was his one nice moment of the day.
I hate that he can make me feel like I’m thirteen again, getting in the way. “I see you’re still the same insufferable asshole.”
“And you’re still as irritating as a mosquito. And just as crushable.” His lip curls, and he has the audacity to look hot while also being a dick.
“Jesus. I forgot how awful it is when you two are in the same room. You’re already giving me a headache.” Flip rubs his temple.
“That’s probably from the pussy shots you were doing last night,” Tristan fires back.
I throw my hands in the air. “Oh my God! I don’t want to know about my brother doing pussy shots!”
“I guess you should have thought about that before you threw a hissy fit at your job, lost your apartment, and decided to crash on my futon. Deal with it or beat it,” Tristan snaps.
Flip snort-laughs. “Ah, man. I forgot about that nickname. Beat it, Beat.” My brother raises his hand in the air, and Tristan high-fives him.
They’re the literal worst. Fighting back is pointless. There’s no way I’ll win against them. Being thrust into the annoying-little-sister role, despite being twenty-two years old with an accounting degree, feels like a mammoth step backwards. I wish I had a pint of ice cream and a room I could mope in, but I’m here, in this crappy situation, and the only way out is to get my stuff from my old apartment, secure a job, and then find a place to live that isn’t here. Once that’s taken care of, I can start plotting revenge against my brother and Tristan. It’s all about biding my time—and not allowing myself to be affected by their needling. I’m channeling Teflon. Nothing sticks.
