He looks like he wants to argue, but a second later, he gives up, turns on his heel, and marches down the stairs. I hear the soft clanging as the ring on his right hand hits the metal railing, and I shovel another bite into my mouth.
And then another.
And I’m not quite finished chewing when I take another.
“Oh my god, didn’t rehab teach you to eat like a grown-up, or are you trying to choke to death?”
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. Shame creeps up my spine in spite of the fact that I refuse to be humiliated by that fucking voice.
I manage to swallow down the lump of pasta threatening to stick in the back of my throat, and I turn my head to see North.
I hate the way he looks. Like if Apollo were a modern-day firefighter with a backward cap.
Arrogant.
Narcissistic.
An ego the size of the sun, which is fitting for a sun god.
North isn’t smiling at me. He’s mostly baring his teeth, like at any second, he’s going to start growling, and thank fuck he doesn’t because I don’t need another reason to find him more attractive.
There’s nothing worse than wanting to climb the man you hate like a goddamn tree.
“What do you want?” I manage after my throat is clear.
“Why are you eating my pasta?”
Of course it was his. Easton was right: everyone here would give up their food for me…
Except him.
The one glaring at me now.
I lean forward and set it on the table, letting the fork fall to the side. “I’m sorry you’re disgusted by the fact that, thanks to my brain damage, I eat like a sloppy toddler—” And I do, but it’s not my fault. Thanks to my TBI and missing my hunger cues, my damn hands shake at the end of the night when all my damaged neurons are misfiring and my body is trembling from low blood sugar. “—but it’s because I was hungry and forgot to eat.”
“I didn’t mean,” he starts, but I have no room to assuage the guilt he always feels after being a dick to me.
I stand up, turn around, and walk away from those big, obnoxiously pretty eyes.
Luckily, he doesn’t follow me this time. Sometimes he will when his words are particularly rough, and these oneswere, but I don’t think he knows that. And I’d like to keep it that way. Thankfully, I’m too tired to cry, so I don’t do anything embarrassing like start sobbing as I make my way to the ground floor.
Through the doors, I see Easton and Teddy chatting, so I roll my shoulders back and head out.
Easton notices me first, and he frowns. “You’re done eating?”
“North wasn’t thrilled that I was eating his food, and he called me a toddler. He’s probably right. I need to be doing shit for myself.”
Easton turns into an immediate storm cloud. “He did what? I’m going to fucking kill him?—”
“Leave it,” I say tiredly, then turn to Teddy. “Ready to head out?”
He nods, then stops me as I take a step toward the curb. “Don’t be too hard on North. Sometimes his mouth gets away from him.”
I’m really sick of people defending him, but also, I can’t demand they take my side. This is where North works. These are his people. His little family.
I’m the odd one out.
“I’m not going to worry about it. Now, before my brain completely shuts down on me, can we go?”
