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What the hell was that? Is that my doorbell? I look over to my alarm clock and see that it’s 4:30 in the morning. The bell rings again and wakes Dylan who stretches and groans.
“Kitty, who the fuck is at your door in the middle of the night?”
“Who’s at my door?” I whisper shout. “What the hell are you doing here? In my bed?”
He sits up. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
The bell rings again followed by loud knocking.
“Kat, it’s Gavin. Open the door before I knock it down. You’re not answering your phone and I’m getting really worried.”
“Oh, shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” I jump out of bed and quickly pull up my discarded jeans that are lying on the floor. “Dylan, hurry the fuck up and get dressed!”
Gavin’s knuckles pound on my door even harder. “Kat, I’m serious. I’m about to break down your door.”
“Coming!” I shout. “I just woke up. Be right there!”
That seems to placate him for the moment because he’s no longer making a ruckus outside.
“Dylan!”
He flops back onto the mattress. “Go take care of Mr. Cooper, Kitty. I’m going back to bed.”
I shove him. “The fuck you are! Goddammit, get dressed!”
I run into the hall and shut my bedroom door. Dylan’s ass had better be putting some clothes on. I unlock the deadbolt to my front door and swing it open.
“Oh, thank God!” Gavin exclaims. “You had me worried half to death, Kat. Why weren’t you answering your phone? I was expecting to hear from you hours ago.”
“Um…” I step aside to let him in. “I passed out. I guess we drank a little too much.”
Gavin’s eyes flit across my living room and pauses a beat over the blankets on my couch. Is that where Dylan was originally sleeping? And where is Bree? Ugh, I’m never drinking tequila again!
“So you fell asleep in here? What took you so long to answer the door?”
“I…um…” I stammer.
Just then, I hear the door to my bedroom creak open. So does Gavin.
“Is Bree here?” he whispers in a panicked voice. “Shit, Kat. How are we going to explain this?”
“Your secret is safe, Teach,” Dylan says gruffly. “Breanna’s current fuckboy picked her up hours ago. It’s just me and Kitty here. Well, and now you.”
Gavin instantly stiffens and looks over my shoulder. By the firm set of his jaw, I’m guessing Dylan decided not to get dressed. I’m too afraid to turn around to confirm it either way.
“Kat, what’s going on?” Gavin asks.
His tone is eerily calm. Like when you’re in the eye of a hurricane. I risk a glance over my shoulder and see Dylan standing there wearin
g nothing but his boxers.
“Damn it, Dylan! Where are your clothes?”
“I’m wearing clothes,” he argues.
“Hardly,” Gavin scoffs.
