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“Well, we didn’t always want to practice music either, but Mom and Dad made it fun, remember? And now look. You play professionally, and I’m a music teacher.”
“Ugh, yes.” She half-chuckles at the truth. “But still, I don’t know how you’re patient enough to teach,” she tells me. “I love kids, but their parents can be devils. Hell, sometimes the kids are devils too.” She chuckles, though I know she’s being serious.
Laughing with her, I grab my bag, then exit the car and make my way down the sidewalk toward the apartment. “I know. Every morning, I wake up and tell myself it’s a new day, and each kid has a fresh slate. Most of them aren’t old enough to really know they’re being little shits.”
“You’re right. Wise beyond your years.” I can tell she’s smiling by her tone. “Are you home yet?”
“Yep. Walking up the stairs now.” I really need to work out because I’m almost out of breath after taking the two flights.
“Alright! I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Tell Brandon I said hey sugar pie.”
“Sugar pie?” I ask with a giggle.
“’Cause he’s a sweetheart,” Sophie adds before we say goodbye and hang up.
I unlock the apartment door, set my bag down, then head to our bedroom. I change into some yoga pants and a sleeveless shirt, then go to the kitchen where the dirty dishes are piled in the sink. Of fucking course.
“Asshole,” I mutter, turning on the hot water and filling the bowls that have dried food in them. As if the ones he left me Monday weren’t bad enough, these dishes look months old, and I’m tempted to just throw them in the trash instead.
Once that’s done, I pull out the ingredients to make spaghetti and meat sauce. Trying to push my frustrations aside, I fill a large pot with water and wait for it to boil. Just as I put the hamburger meat into the frying pan, the door swings open, and I light up with a smile that immediately fades when I glance over my shoulder and notice it’s Hunter instead of Brandon. When I focus back on the stove, the laughter begins, only enraging me further. With as much willpower as I can muster, I ignore him, which is nearly impossible as the booming sound grows louder.
“What in the hell are you wearing?” he asks the moment he enters the kitchen.
I flick my head toward him and watch as he opens the fridge, then pulls out a beer. He twists off the cap and tosses it on the counter, regardless of the trashcan being closer.
“None of your damn business. Keep your comments to yourself.” I don’t feel like arguing, though it’s inevitable when we’re in the same room. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he has a man crush on my boyfriend, and he’s jealous. The thought has me cracking up inside.
Hunter leans against the counter, watching me intently. More than likely, he’s judging me as I stir the meat. I’m sure by his standards, I’m somehow doing it wrong.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be or someone to do?” I ask, thinking about the red lacy panties I found on the floor earlier this week. There’s venom in my tone, and I refuse to look at him.
Before Hunter can open his big mouth with a rebuttal that would’ve most likely been rude as hell, I hear the door swing open again. When I look over my shoulder, I’m relieved and thrilled to see it’s Brandon. He’s wearing a sexy button-up shirt with black slacks and flashes me a grin the moment our eyes meet as if he remembers our little exchange this morning.
He immediately crosses the room toward me, spins me around, wraps his arms around my body, and pulls me close. Our lips collide, and when we break apart, Hunter makes a gagging sound before walking away. I make a face and scowl. Brandon thinks it’s hilarious, but it annoys me even more if that’s possible. I wish he’d have the balls to stand up to Hunter and tell him to mind his own business instead of laughing it off.
“Don’t let him get to you, baby. He’s probably had a stressful day at work with his project,” Brandon reminds me, giving my ass a squeeze. It sends shivers down my spine whenever he does that and causes me to smile even though a certain roommate has caused my mood to sour. I try to take Brandon’s words into consideration as to why Hunter has been more of an asshole lately.
Behind me, I hear the meat sizzling, so I spin around to stir it before it sticks.
Once it’s fully cooked, I drain the water and add the sauce.
“You’re distracting me,” I tease when his hands snake around my waist, and I feel his mouth on my shoulder, feathering kisses up my neck. Brandon takes my earlobe between his teeth and growls, causing me to moan.
