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I knock harder on the door, trying to overpower the sound of running water and Wilder singing “The Kill” by 30 Seconds to Mars at the top of his lungs.
Growing even more impatient, I shout, "Hey! I need in there." I turn the doorknob, and I'm not surprised it's locked, but that doesn't stop me from shaking it while pounding my fist on the door. "I'm gonna be late for school, moron. Let me in so I can brush my damn teeth and take a piss!"
We have five fucking bathrooms in this house. It shouldn’t be this hard to take a piss before school.
“You’re welcome to use mine and Brogan’s bathroom if you need to.” The voice comes from behind me, and I spin around to see Lake.
“No, he can't. Brogan is in there,” I hear Elodie holler from down the hall. See. Insufferable.
“Thanks, Lake. But Wilder should be just about finished.” I clench my jaw, trying not to snap at her just because Elodie decided to speak.
She shrugs. “Suit yourself.” I watch as she walks down the hall toward the stairs, only for Elodie to step out in her shadow.
The sunlight streaming from the balcony doors at the end of the hall highlights the small freckles dotted on her nose. Her long brunette hair clings to the towel wrapped around her body, leaving wet patches from the dripping water.
I narrow my gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans into the doorframe, scrunching her wet hair with a towel—my towel.
I set my jaw and growl, “Enjoying my bathroom?”
Her hand drops, still holding the towel. “Very much so. However, it has this weird smell to it. Like someone tried to hide the smell of piss and ass with Tom Ford cologne.” Her mouth tugs up in a grin and I wanna rip her fucking lips off. “But don’t worry, I’ll have it smelling like roses in no time.”
She tosses the towel at me, hitting me in the fucking face. I despairingly shake my head as all the blood rushes to my cheeks. “Bitch,” I mutter under my breath as she turns up her nose and goes back into her room.
I bring the towel closer to my face and I draw in an extra deep breath. She smells far too sweet for a girl so evil. There was a minute where I was attracted to her last year, but that was quickly squashed when she decided to embarrass me in front of the entire school. Not that anyone said anything, they wouldn’t dare. But I think Elodie needs to be made an example of for what happens when you mess with Rome Cromwell.
Celia, my new stepmom, pokes her head up the stairs and I immediately drop the damp towel to the floor.
“Everything okay up here?” Celia asks, her tone soft and motherly-like. “I heard shouting and banging.”
If I wasn’t already pissed, I am now. Dad doesn’t even come up here. This is our lair—mine and my brothers’. What the hell is up with these women thinking they can tread on our territory?
I roll my lips together, thankful as fuck when the bathroom door flies open. A waft of steam rolls out and it’s taking everything in me not to grab Wilder by the throat and toss him into the hall. But I need to get the hell away from my new stepmother before she sees the monster unleash inside me.
“Ask your oldest daughter,” I tell her, before walking into the fogged-up bathroom. I kick the door closed, even though Wilder is still inside.
“Seriously, man?” I huff. “Get the fuck out so I can get ready for school.”
He’s standing over the sink, his toothbrush hanging from his mouth while foam forms around his lips as he speaks.
“Chill out. It’s the first day. Just pretend you don’t know where you’re going.”
“We’re seniors, dipshit. Everyone knows we have been in that school for three years. Of course I know where I’m going.”
My eyes travel to his phone perched on a tissue box. “Seriously,” I huff. “Is this what’s taking you so damn long? You’re making a fucking social media video of you brushing your damn teeth?” I grab his phone and end the recording, then shove it to his chest. “Out! Now!”
Wilder is one of those guys who can make a video of just about anything as long as he’s in it, and the girls will follow. And he does. He records himself doing the dumbest shit and posts it on SnapTok for his followers. I’m beginning to think he’s obsessed. Though he would say it’s because it makes his followers happy.
"Jesus,” Wilder mumbles. “Ever since you got cut from the team, you’ve been a real asshole.”
He rinses his toothbrush and drops it in the holder before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall. Hastily, he wipes his mouth then carelessly tosses it back in place before opening the door with his phone in his hand.
I, being the helpful brother I am, assist him with exiting by shoving him out. “I wasn’t fucking cut!” I slam the door closed, my entire body trembling with rage.
My hands press to the cold marble vanity and I drop my head, eyes pinched shut while I try to breathe.
This time last year, I had it all. The world was sitting in the palm of my hand. I was the starting quarterback on the varsity team, holding the record in the state for the most passes in a single season. I was getting offers from schools all over the country, while waiting for one in particular.
That offer finally came, and within a week, I had signed the contract. Six weeks later, it was rescinded. I lost everything because of one fucking night. One night. One bad choice, and just like that, it was gone.
