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“Not. Helping,” Cindy says in an annoyed voice.
“Will someone please tell me what the shit is going on?” I demand as Eric moves away from us, walks around the front of the vehicle, and gets in on the driver’s side.
“Well, with Cindy in the middle of moving in with PJ today, and me and Vincent trying to plan our wedding, there’s kind of a lot going on right now,” Belle explains. “You know we love you and we actually had a huge argument about which one of us you’d stay with until this whole situation gets cleared up.”
Belle pauses, and she shares another worried look with Cindy.
“Will someone please just fucking spit it out!” I shout.
“We spent so much time fighting about it that the guys got sick of it and broke up the fight and Eric stepped in and said he had a place you could stay so he’s going to take you home with him and please don’t kill us,” Cindy says rapidly, without taking a breath.
No. No, no, no, this is not happening right now.
“Are you gonna get your ass in the car or stand out there yapping all day?” Eric shouts, leaning across the center console, winking at me as he pats the passenger seat with his palm.
“Run,” I whisper.
“Huh? What did you say?” Cindy asks.
I take a deep, calming breath and decide to use my words instead of my fists. Not because I would feel bad about punching my friends in the face, but because I don’t want to drop the Flounders.
“I said, run you motherfuckers. Run before I find a sharp object and shove it up both your asses,” I reply in a smooth, cheerful voice, even though I’m seriously considering adding myself to Belle’s statistic of murdering people you know.
My so-called friends both tell me they love me and hurriedly move away to the safety of their men, telling me to call them as soon as I get settled.
“Wipe that smile off of your face right now,” I inform Eric as I hold onto the fish tank with one arm and grab to the handle inside the doorframe to pull myself into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed behind me once I get situated. “This is only temporary.”
I choose to ignore Eric’s laugh as he starts up the engine and pulls out of the driveway.
Chapter 5: Fuck, Marry, Kill
“Where in the fresh hell have you brought me?!”
I really try not to screech like a crazy person, but it’s impossible. We’re sitting in Eric’s SUV, and my voice bounces around the interior like nails on a chalkboard through an amplifier.
And I am a crazy person, so there’s that.
“The marina,” he replies, turning off the engine and shifting his body to the side to shove his keys in the front pocket of his jeans.
“I know that. I’m not an idiot. There is water and there are boats. But why have you brought me here?”
God, I sound like a bitch. I know, I know—I am a bitch, but for the first time in a long time, I kind of feel bad about it. This guy, as annoying as he is, offered me a place to stay on the worst day of my life. I think my bitchiness right now stems from the fact that my friends are traitorous assholes and hatched this plan without my permission when I was comatose, and I didn’t even put up a fight. I just got in Eric’s car and off we went.
WHO AM I?!
On top of that, I’ve been sitting in these close quarters with him for the last twenty minutes, when he left me alone to plot everyone’s death without bugging me. He didn’t make small talk, he didn’t ask me a hundred stupid questions, he didn’t tease me . . . he just left me alone with my murderous thoughts and the smell of him surrounding me. What is it about the smell of a man fresh from the shower who dabbed on just enough cologne to make your mouth water and want to cross and uncross your legs?
This is why I’m bitchy. This right here. I hate men. Especially men who smell so good. Why couldn’t he smell like gym sweat and curry? It would be easier to hate him if I had to plug my nose every time I was around him.
“This is where I live. And now this is where you live. Welcome home, honey.”
He aims that damn dimpled smile in my direction, and if I didn’t love the Flounders so much, I would dump this fish tank all over him.
“What do you mean this is where you live? You can’t live here. People don’t live here!”
He’s already out of the vehicle and slamming the door closed before I finish yelling at him. I glare at him through the windshield as he rounds SUV. Hugging the tank closer to my chest, I try to get the door open before he gets to it, but my hands are still wet from the damn tank, and it flies open before I can get a firm hold on the handle.
