Page 24 of Sour Notes

Chop-chop-chop.

Well shit.

Dropping the knife, I stare down at the mushrooms I’ve been slicing to make a stir-fry for dinner. I might’ve gone a little too heavy with the sharp object. There’s basically no mushroom left—they’ve been diced into obscurity.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Pizza it is.

I scrape the board off into the trash, tossing the knife into the sink like it offends me. Which, right now, is hardly surprising because everything does.

Just as I collapse on our leather sofa, phone in hand ready to scroll the DoorDash app, Mia’s bedroom door jerks open, their voices getting louder as they approach.

Don’t look up, don’t look up.

Of course I look up—and nearly choke on my tongue.

Mia looks…

Please hold while I roll my tongue back into my mouth.

She looks incredible.

Phenomenal.

Ethereal.

Like my every fucking fantasy grew legs and walked right outta my head to stand right here.

Her long dark hair cascades over one shoulder in waves, drawing my eyes straight to her incredible cleavage framed in a dark red sweater dress the exact same shade as her lipstick. Her striking eyes pop against the black eyeliner she’s wearing, and I’m pretty sure the thigh-high black suede boots are designed with the sole purpose of bringing men to their knees.

I’m sure as shit ready to drop to the floor and worship her like the fucking idiot I am.

But she’s dressed like this for him.

He doesn't get to see all of her though. He doesn't get to see her with hair knotted on top of her head, bare legged, fresh faced, laughing at a late night movie. He doesn't see her hair mussed from sleep, shirt slipping from her shoulder as she fumbles her way into the kitchen for her coffee in the morning.

Of course, neither do I most days anymore and fuck do I miss that.

Haven circles Mia like a TV game show host waving her arms like some kinda chicken. “Ta dahhhhh. How does she look?”

I allow myself one more glance at her, jealousy slashing through me like a knife to the gut. “Uhh… fine.”

Fine?

Fucking fine?

You absolute moron. And then you wonder why she rejected your dumb ass.

Of course I don’t look away fast enough to avoid seeing Mia’s face fall at my words. As if I didn’t feel like enough of a tool.

You think I’ve got no game, don’t you?

Admit it, you do.

But I’ve got game, I’ve got great fucking game… with anyone else. Just not with her, because she’s the only one who matters.

Haven shakes her head, pink curls flying, shooting a glare my way as they both walk out the door. I suppress a sigh when they don’t even say goodbye.