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It surely hadn’t taken those boys long to try and harass me.
I texted the twins in our group chat to tell them they had better still be here on time and set my phone down on the countertop. If it weren’t for my music, I’d turn the damn thing back off again. As it was, I had to silence all incoming calls and text messages.
Because my nerves were shot, and I had recently discovered just how much I loved the taste, I popped open a bottle of champagne and poured myself a flute of the bubbly goodness.
I put the open bottle in the refrigerator and carried the glass back to my room with me. I could just hear the music in here, but thankfully I could no longer hear those assholes raging at me at the bottom of the stairs.
Perfection.
Sooner or later, those boys were going to realize just who they were messing with, and hopefully they’d get with the damn program because I’d had more than enough.
I located the box with all the fairy lights and dumped them out onto the bed. I tossed down several packs of batteries beside them. The lights were battery operated and came with these slim little silver remotes that allowed you to change the settings on the lights.
They were fantastic, and I planned to keep them up for much longer than just tonight. And, bonus, I wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over a bunch of cords plugged into outlets along the wall and strewn all over the floor.
I loaded them up with batteries and got busy hanging them. I wrapped strands around my curtain rods and the posts on my bed. I hung them up artfully above my bed, along my nightstands, and on my dresser.
I turned the overhead lights off and powered up the fairy lights. They really set the mood in my bedroom. I had originally thought about doing candles in here too, but with two kittens, I didn’t want to risk the chance of lighting the place on fire. I’d seen one house fire in my life and had no desire to witness another one.
My kittens were a potential problem that I probably should have thought about before magically locking Quinton out of the apartment. He would be overjoyed at being able to have a sleepover with them.
Even though I knew I was probably going to have to steal them away from him in order to get them back, I knew it was the right thing to do. I pulled out their little padded basket from my closet and placed it on the bed beside their sleeping bodies. I’d load them up when the twins got here so they could do the drop off for me downstairs.
I bet that would really get Quinton going, and I almost felt sorry for everyone else in the house with him because I knew he was going to take his shitty attitude out on them.
I caught sight of the time on my alarm clock and let out a little girly shriek that was a whole lot more than slightly embarrassing.
Shit!
I was running out of time, and I still had to do my hair and makeup, get dressed, and cook dinner—cook dinner without burning it.
I grabbed my now empty champagne flute and raced to the kitchen with it clutched in my hand. I refilled the bubbly and set the noodles to boil in a pot on the stove. I put the chicken in a skillet on the stove and set it to low so it wouldn’t burn while I rushed around to get ready. I scooped some butter into the pan and seasoned the chicken breasts.
I preheated the oven, grabbed my glass, and raced back to my bedroom.
Thankfully I had already picked an outfit out earlier, so it was easy to strip down naked and get dressed in the clothes I’d laid out on the counter in my closet.
Perhaps I had gone slightly overboard with my outfit, but I didn’t mind because I looked damn good in it, if I did say so myself.
My dress was a little black body-con number that clung to my frame like a second skin. It had a turtleneck and long sleeves, but the skirt stopped mid-thigh and left a whole lot of my long legs on display. Underneath, I wore a lacy white bra and matching thong. Black underwear just seemed far too predictable, so I went with white. It made me look pure and innocent, and the color looked great against my skin.
I thought about skipping panties entirely, but I didn’t think it would be fair to rob the twins of having something to take off and missing out on the full experience. Perhaps I was overthinking it, but whatever, I told myself it just meant I cared.
I plugged the curling iron in and quickly put my shoes on while it heated up. The shoes were so not my usual thing, but they went perfectly with the outfit, which was why I’d decided to wear them in the first place.
Good ole Damien had bought them with hopes of seeing me wear them one day, and now here I was wearing them for someone else like an asshole.
Now I felt like a horrible girlfriend. To make up for it, I promised myself I’d take a picture of the full package when I was all done and text it to him. I hoped he thought it was kind and not cruel. I really didn’t enjoy hurting him, or any of them for that matter.
My shoes were black with red bottoms, and they had an incredibly high, thinly spiked heel. I’d probably break something strutting around in them all night, but I was telling myself it’d be worth it because I looked so damn good.
I ran back out to the kitchen and flipped the chicken in the skillet before putting the bread sticks in the oven to bake. The noodles weren’t quite ready to be strained just yet. They weren’t soft enough.
I opened the refrigerator and pulled out the raw vegetables I’d cut up earlier. I dumped them into a pan and poured a little bit of water over them. I covered the pot with a lid and turned the burner on low for them to steam.
There wasn’t much else for me to do out here until everything was done cooking except for heating up the sauce, which I was going to do in the skillet the chicken was cooking in, but I was waiting until the chicken was done.
The salad was already made and in a bowl in the fridge. The cake I’d made earlier and frosted was in the fridge on a plate. All it needed was to be moved to the pretty cake stand already sitting on the counter beside the vase filled with roses.
