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"Sit your dramatic ass back down, Rylee Selwood. I'm not letting you go anywhere."
I stalk towards him, my hands curling into fist. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to you insult me every five minutes."
"I was just asking a honest question. Your reaction says a lot."
Blake stares up at me, not at all bothered but my presence looming over him.
I finally break, sighing as I sit down on the bed. "I don't know. But they are also guilty. Why don't you give them shit too?"
"You think I don't?" he asks, surprised. "No offence but I'm struggling to figure out what makes you special enough that they want to do something so taboo."
"Stop insulting me."
Blake sighs. "I just think everyone's moral compasses are back to front. I know people say to keep it in the family, but I'm pretty sure this was not what they meant."
"Still not helping."
He chuckles. "Fine. Why don't we agree to disagree, and just be civil?"
I glare at him. "Can you even manage that?"
"Of course I can. Besides, we're going to be stuck together for a few days while I keep an eye on you. Best that we don't try to murder each other."
I roll my eyes. "I'm not making any promises."
Blake makes me spend the night in his motel. I refuse to get in the bed, so I spend the night curled up on the disgusting hard chair. Blake, being the ever loving gentleman, takes the bed without disagreement.
When the sun breaks a few hours later, I'm already awake. Then again, I'm not entirely convinced I slept at all.
"You could have laid next to me. I can guarantee I won't touch you," he says amused, walking around the room in a black cotton shirt and boxer shorts.
"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," I grumble, rubbing my aching neck.
Blake fiddles with the complimentary coffee machine in the room. The gesture is nice but it's a budget motel, so I'm not even sure if the thing works. It looks old, and like it hasn't been cleaned properly in five years.
It makes a whirling sound, like a lawn mower starting up as Blake experiments with some buttons.
"I'll do my best to get you caffeine, but if you die from it, I take no responsibility," he says, putting a cup underneath it.
"Charming," I mutter, leaning down to put my head between my legs. I'm so exhausted from a long shift and no sleep, that I don't have the energy to argue.
The machine hums and the smell of some type of coffee fills the room. Blake walks over, offering me the cup.
I raise an eyebrow as I take it. "You should have a test sip first."
"God, no. I hate the stuff."
My mouth drops open. "You hate coffee? What kind of messed up person hates coffee?"
Blake smirks, walking over to the bed and laying down. "What kind of messed up person fucks their stepbrothers?"
"I thought you were going to be civil," I snap.
He laughs. "This is me being civil. Learn to take a joke. You can obviously take a dick."
I look down at the coffee, pondering the option of throwing the burning liquid on his pretty face but decide against it. I take a sip, coughing and spluttering the liquid back into the cup.
"I don't think this is even coffee."
