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The last time I had an acceptable meal was when the house sitter cooked that casserole—best food I’ve had in a hot minute, but I’ll die before telling her that.
I blew through all the money I had for this month a few days ago. I could hardly see myself telling my dad I wasted my allowance in a single night. Thank fuck I had enough left to buy Lexie’s food.
I know Theo thinks because my dad owns tons of shopping malls on top of his company, I’m swimming in cash, but my old man is a firm believer in his boys learning the value of money.
Brody, my big brother, had to start working when he was thirteen to pay for his shit. It was different for me, though. Dad wouldn’t let me get a job.
He said he wanted me to direct all of my focus into basketball. He probably thought his delinquent son couldn’t focus on sports, get a job, and keep it together.
Theo and I have been eating ramen noodles and whatever snacks we could find in the pantry since he got here. Not that Theo minds. As long as there was something even remotely edible in the house, he didn’t say shit—anything is better than living with his parents—but we’re out of even the most basic stuff now.
Hopefully, Gem girl buys more food before we starve.
Theo comes back from the fridge empty-handed, plopping down on the leather couch. “What’s next?”
I arch an eyebrow at him.
“I assume you’re working on your next move to get rid of the house sitter?” he sneers.
He thinks I’m wasting my time.
He says she doesn’t seem like the type to quit, and chances are, if she hasn’t thrown in the towel yet, she never will. According to him, the girl isn’t going anywhere.
I’m going to have the time of my life proving him wrong.
“Jesus, it’s hot in here.” Theo, who’s wearing a gym tank top, peels his bicep off the couch, his skin sticking to the leather.
He’s right.
I convince myself it has something to do with my messing with the thermostat yesterday and shrug. I lob his video game controller at him to unpause the game we abandoned. We barely play for ten minutes before it becomes unbearable.
“Okay, I’m fucking melting. Do something,” Theo urges.
“News flash, Cox, you have legs.”
“I don’t know how your rich-people thermostat works, dipshit,” Theo argues.
Annoyed, I rise off the couch and edge my way to the kitchen to adjust the temperature.
90 degrees.
Did I break something yesterday?
Why is it so fucking hot?
It’s hot as hell outside, sure, but the AC should be kicking in. I press the button to lower it back to normal levels, but an alert message pops up on the touch screen.
LOCKED. PLEASE ENTER PASSCODE TO ADJUST TEMPERATURE.
My mouth drops.
She didn’t.
I hear footsteps and Lexie’s paws rattling the floor.
“Morning, boys.” Gem’s chirpy voice tips me off instantly.
Looks like she just turned the tables on me.
