Page 21
Sitting back, I track Guy’s movements across the kitchen—opening the fridge, grabbing an apple, taking a bite. This motherfucker thinks he lives here. With as much as Sera’s gone for work, he probably does.
I consider telling him what happened in front of that fridge yesterday. It’d break up him and Kota, get him the fuck out of my sight, and free her up for… Not me. I don’t want the chick. I just don’t want this douchebag with her.
“Long night?” I ask, wondering if he’ll tell me about it or not.
His mouth actually full, he gives a noncommittal wiggle of his shoulders.
“My girl called me last night, feral as fuck.”
“Lucky,” Guy says around his apple. “You go see her?”
“Nah. She doesn’t live around here.”
“That’s what video calls are for, right?” Guy chuckles.
“Mm,” is all I say. Nothing? He’s not gonna brag about his fuckfest at all?
I try another angle. “It’s probably a good thing though since, you know, ovulation’s a scary time to fuck around.”
He stares at me blankly, so I add, “Don’t wanna knock her up.”
With a gesture out the kitchen, he says, “I’d prefer that to when they’re on the rag. That’s scary. She’s like a whole different person right now.”
Aunt Flow’s in town? Since when? I don’t know how girls’ cycles work but if Kota was ovulating yesterday, how is she on her period today?
Unless her ass was lying about ovulating as an excuse for what we did.
She may not have been ovulating, but she wasn’t on her period either. My hand didn’t have a trace of blood on it.
So, what the fuck? Did she start this morning?
Look at this shit. I’m over here trying to figure out what Kota’s pussy might be leaking. Got me acting like Chief Menstrual Inspector, piecing together clues for when the red tide comes in.
Kota Rhodes is a waste of my time.
Once Guy leaves the house, I search the kitchen for a toaster, finding one in the pantry already plugged in. Ripping the cord from the socket, I take it with me before stopping by the gaudy flower arrangement in the foyer to grab a rose head. With it smashed in my fist, I shake off the stem on my way up the stairs. There are two full staircases leading to the second floor, one to our hallway, the other to the parents’.
The toaster goes in the tub, then I crumble the rose petals, leaving a trail from the bathroom to Kota’s door.
My stepsister answers after the second knock, rearing back at finding me taking up her entire doorway.
“Can I help you?”
“I, uh…heard about your issue.”
Her eyebrows inch closer together.
“Guy told me. About it being shark week.”
“Shark… Oh.” While her brows lift, her gaze drops like a missile. “Um, yeah.”
“And my behavior yesterday…” I trail off, not technically apologizing, just referencing in a way that sounds apologetic. “Anyway, I just wanted to see if we could start over.”
“Of course.” She finally meets my eyes. “I feel bad about yesterday, too.”
Does she? For what part exactly?
Never mind. She’s a liar and I don’t actually care.
