“The best dreams happen when you’re awake,” I slingshot back like the cocky fucker I am.
“I need to sleep,” she ignores my response masterfully. “I have an early study group in the morning. There’s plenty of beer in the fridge and your choice of spare bedrooms upstairs.” Kira sneaks off her chair in a ninja-like move.Impressive.“Don’t get too drunk; I’ll need a ride.”
“Study groups were not part of the deal,” I argue.
“They were classified under schooling.”
“Oh, is that right?” I scoff.
“Yes, that’s right.” She struts off, and I shut the fuck up, drooling over her sweet, tight, heart-shaped ass.
Soon, I’m alone and thirsty for more than just beer.
Left with little to do besides twiddle my fucking thumbs, I open the fridge and grab another. I stare at the contents inside. Everything neatly placed, organized, and utterly irritating.Perfect, perfect, perfect,I gripe to myself as I push around bottles and plastic containers and condiments until the inside of the fridge is in complete disarray. I smile.Perfection. One hot mess. I slam the door closed, pop open the beer bottle, and strut to the enormous, white, U-shaped, fancy-schmancy couch in the living quarters. You can’t even call it a room.
Propping my feet up, boots and all, onto the white coffee table, I turn on the TV, get comfortable, and prepare to catch up onSports Center. That’s when I see it, a picture frame on the glossy-white piece of furniture under the television with three smiling faces. The new, happy family.
It disgusts me. It’s almost hard to believe the man in that picture is the same man who raised me. He looks mostly the same, except his salt-and-pepper beard is kept a little neater and his dark hair is trimmed with a bit more style. And the expression on his face, it’s so content he’s even showing teeth. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my father smile in such a way.
A rapid boil of emotions bubbles beneath my skin. I chug the beer, unable to stop glaring at the picture.
I think I’m totally fucked. No, I know I’m totally fucked. I have no idea how I’m going to survive a month without smashing half this house to pieces.
5
Kira
I wakeup refreshed for the first time in nearly two weeks. Just knowing Ky was in the house set my tensions at ease. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. It was glorious.
Now I’m up, showered, and ready to conquer Thursday.
I bound down the stairs, the house bright with sunlight.
Not everyone is appreciating it, though. I find Ky passed out on the couch, a pillow over his face, his leg slung over the back, and nearly a dozen beer bottles scattered all over the coffee table. Thewhitecoffee table now littered with water stains.
“Hey.” I hit Ky’s boot. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, we have to go.”
He protests with an irritated groan, hugging the pillow tighter to his face.
“Ky, I’m going to be late.” I shake his leg harder this time.
“Then leave. No one is stopping you.”
I jerk my head back. Is he being fucking serious right now?
“Ky.”I use all my might to roll him off the couch and onto the floor. He falls with a thud, then a “What the fuck!”
“I said get up. I’m going to be late.”
He glares up at me from the floor, his blue irises shining in the bright sunlight, and his scar pronounced across his left eye. Even with the bedhead and ticked-off expression, he’s gloriously sexy, not to mention dangerously intimidating.
“You better watch it, Snow. I’m not some fucking boytoy you can boss around.” He pushes himself up onto his feet, clearly in no rush to go anywhere. He yawns, stretching his arms over his head like a lazy housecat. I try not to, but I sneak a peek of his inked abs.
“You can look.” Ky catches me. “You can even touch if you want.” He pulls his T-shirt all the way up, exposing his ripped, tattooed torso. He’s obnoxiously proud of his midsection.Spare me.
I just roll my eyes and walk away, grabbing my book bag from one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.
“No touching, then?” he calls.
