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“Small buzz.” She holds her hand up, gesturing to her level of intoxication with her index finger and thumb that are about an inch apart. “But that’s beside the point. We’ve reached an understanding today. He’s your best friend. I’m your sister. And since we’re going to be living under this roof together for at least another three months, we need to find a way to get along. So, we’re calling a truce.”
“We are?” I blurt, garnering myself a warning glare from Barlow.
“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Right.” I clear my throat. “A truce.” I nod way too fucking enthusiastically to sell whatever shit she’s spewing as believable.
What the fuck?
Did I or did I not just get done telling her that I don’t want to be her friend? Or rather, that I can’t be.
“You two are freaking me the fuck out.” Brennon laughs. “I’m going to bed. Do me a favor, don’t get my fucking sister drunk again.” His gaze slices to me and while his words are light, his expression says he’s not kidding around.
“You got it, Ace.” I weirdly salute him.
“Um, for the record, he did not get me drunk.” Barlow follows her brother out of the room. “I got myself drunk.”
Brennon’s laughter filters down the hallway as he heads toward his room and Barlow turns toward the living room.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck like glue to this fucking floor wondering what the hell just happened.
