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Her eyes flick away from mine and it’s almost as though she looks ashamed of herself, but she’s doing a good job of covering the emotion. “So, he really tried to get you in bed the other week?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “He was hoping for a threesome.”
“Ugh,” she groans. “I love you, but I don’t love you enough to screw you.”
“Ditto,” I laugh.
“I’m sorry,” she sighs, repeating herself. “Do you know how hard it was to try and hate you when you kept doing things to make me love you?”
I grin, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. “You noticed that, did you?”
“You’re not supposed to make dinner for the person who’s been a bitch to you for the past few weeks, you know? I’ll have to teach you how to hold a grudge.”
“Nate actually cooked that,” I laugh. “But I can’t help it. You’re my best friend and whether you think I was lying to you or not, I couldn’t bring myself to be mean. You know, except for that one time, but you deserved it. “
“I know, I just wanted to hate you. I thought you were trying to take him away, and then you were kissing him.”
“Trust me, I wasn’t kissing him. He was assaulting my face and it was disgusting. I mean, that guy does not know how to kiss a girl.”
“No,” she laughs. “I was trying to train him. He was getting better.”
“You weren’t training hard enough,” I laugh. “Why don’t you let me pick the next guy?”
“Deal,” she laughs. “But I don’t want a pansy who thinks roses and chocolates are the way to a girl’s heart.”
“Aren’t they?”
“Not this girl,” she declares.
“That’s right,” I grin. “You prefer a guy who’s going to throw you down and treat you like shit.”
“No, I prefer a guy who’s going to throw me against a wall and screw me until my eyes are rolling back, but treat me like a queen outside the bedroom.”
“Sorry,” I laugh. “Nate’s taken.”
“Damn, and he can cook too.”
“Imagine all the other things he can do,” I tell her suggestively before throwing the blanket back and declaring she’s mostly ok. I drag her out of bed and walk down to the living room. “Come on,” I tell her. “I’ll watch ‘The Walking Dead’ with you and pretend it’s my favorite show.”
Her eyes widen in excitement. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”
She stops in the middle of the living room and squeezes my hand. “Thank you,” she says. “Without you, I’d probably be a sobbing mess in my old dorm room.”
I wink and grin. “And don’t you forget it. Now, do you want to set up the TV or get the popcorn.”
“Popcorn,” she declares with a knowing grin as she has a theory that I always burn it, which in my opinion is bullshit. I cook popcorn to perfection.
Brooke sashays off to the kitchen and I grab a blanket from the cupboard, not doubting for a second that we’ll be needing it. As I walk over to grab the remote, a knock sounds on our door.
I put on my bitch face, assuming it’s Lukas coming to grovel and prepare myself to tell the fucker to get lost. I walk over, feeling proud and ready, making sure to put on my best ‘you’re a loser’ smirk. I reach the handle and rip the door open, only to grunt in confusion at the person on the other side.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I question, looking at Maxen who leans forward onto the doorframe with a cringe on his face.
“I… uh. Shit.” he sighs. “Can I see her?”
“What? No.” I blink. “Why?”
“I was with Nate when you guys were talking. I just want to check she’s alright.”
I study him for a moment when I notice his cracked and bruised knuckles. Realization hits me like a freight train. Maxen was the one who jumped Lukas.
He notices what’s caught my attention and a silent message passes between us. “I can’t guarantee that she’ll be happy to see you.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Alright,” I breath. “It’s your funeral.”
I open the door wider and allow him to pass with a cringe of my own, hoping this is going to be better for Brooke than worse, but I seriously doubt it. Seeing the guy who originally hurt her is probably just going to piss her off and I’m going to be the one to get the blame. Great. At least she loves me again. If I did this yesterday, she would have bitten my head off. Hell, she’ll probably bite my head off now.
I close the door behind us and walk with Max towards the kitchen. Brooke has her back to us and when she hears the door closing, she calls out over her shoulder, “Who was it?”
