He takes the phone right out of my hands, eyes blazing when he clicks the thing off and sets it down on the counter. “What is wrong with you?”
I don’t even know. I have no right to be annoyed but I am, so I’m just here stewing in it. “What’s wrong withyou?”
He takes a deep breath, then exhales through his nose. Oh, is he annoyed too? Good. “I shouldn’t have said what I did last night. We are friends. I find you repulsive. I wouldn’t fuck you if you were wearing nothing but a sex bra and matching black panties.” The corner of his lips twitch. “Blue panties?Redpanties?”
“I’m not telling you what color sex bra is.” He doesn’t deserve to know.
His loud clap rattles my eardrums. “Ha! So the legends are true!”
“You’re an asshole, and I’m leaving.”
“Comeonnnn. Don’t abandon me. If I promise to behave from now on, will you stay?” He follows me down the hallway like a sulking puppy.
Why does he even care?
Maybe he’s lonely too.
Ha! Look at that sock still hanging on the doorknob like a big old red flag. Elliott Grant isn’tlonely. He can have “company” any time he chooses.
He seems to notice where I’m looking, and his brow furrows. “What the hell?” He stalks over and yanks the sock off the knob, holding it up as if I hadn’t seen it already and been obsessing over it all freaking night. “Did you put this here?”
Yeah, like I put a sock on his doorknob. “Very funny.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yes, Elliott. I came home from my date and the first thing I wanted to do was put a sex sock on your doorknob.”
“That sounds like a euphemism for something I might be up for.”
Can’t he take anything seriously?
“So, you didn’t do it?” he asks.
“Of course not!”
He bunches the sock in his fist. “Fucking August.”
“Are you saying your cousin did this?”
“He’s the only other person who’s been here.”
I know I’ve been naïve, but that sounds a little too suspicious, even to me. “Maybe it was the girl you brought home last night.” Okay, I did not mean that to come out so shrill, but there isn’t anything I can do about it now.
“I didn’t bring anyone home.”
Yeah, right. “I heard her leave this morning.”
“You heard me taking out the trash.”
He didn’t take out the?—
Okay. The trash was taken out. But it’s a little early for stomping down to the dumpsters, especially if he was drinking wine.
His eyes widen. “Is that why you’ve been biting my head off since the moment you stepped out of your room?”
There is no way I’m going to admit it. My pride is already shot after spending half the night tossing and turning, listening for the tell-tale thump of a headboard against the wall. From the silence, I assumed the deed had been done, but maybe he hadn’t brought anyone home after all.
If that’s the case, I feel like such an idiot. Time to go back to my room and hide for at least a year before showing my face again.
