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She pulled my shirt in her fists. “I still don’t like you very much, although you made great progress tonight. That means my offer still stands.”
I didn’t dispute the jab, because I liked the thought of having her working at my side. And, uh, sure, because we needed people to help us out. I shouldn’t mess this up for once.
“You sure?”
“It means a lot to you. It will strengthen our bond. So, yeah, absolutely.” Her voice sounded muffled.
“You alright down there?” I looked down onto a crown of hair.
“Yep. Totally. Don’t need air to survive, and I do admit, you smell nice.” She exaggerated a sniff. “Eau-de-stepbrother. The scent of cheap lubrication and sweaty hand jobs.”
I laughed. Full belly-laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. “Classy, Dita. Really fucking classy.”
She pushed herself off and shrugged, pretending as if it wasn’t rare to see me smile.
Fine, then I’d pretend her eyes shining with pure entertainment wasn’t a tug at my rotten heart.
“That’s me. Dita ‘fucking classy’ Dominguez. And she’s off to bed, if you don’t mind.” She held a hand in front of her mouth and yawned. Then she picked up her shoes and purse. “Tell me when and where. I’ll make sure to be your wing woman. Or whatever it’s called.”
I saluted her. “Will do.”
She clutched her stuff underneath her arm and shuffled her juicy butt outside with a soft smile. My chest constricted with a tight pinch.
“Good night, Ares.”
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
“Good night.” Beautiful, beautiful girl, I silently added.
22
DITA
“You ready?”
Steph and I looked up as Ares poked his head through my bedroom door. He still missed the ability to knock like a decent guy that valued my privacy. Looking at the bright side, he approached me differently, more lenient, at least.
I closed my book and saw Steph do the same. She tried to hide her grin but couldn’t withhold from bobbing her brows.
“You let the Trojan horse in?” she asked amused.
I rolled my eyes and gestured for him to come inside.
“Apparently you do.” Steph’s gaze followed Ares with interest, as did I.
“What do you have there?” I eyed the bag behind his back.
“Could ask you the same question.” He strode further into the room and flicked the hardcover I held onto with his index finger. “Have you been in my room again, sweetness? You know what they say about curious kitty cats.”
“Wouldn’t dare.” I rolled my lips around my teeth. “I just was in the mood for, uh,”—I turned the book to read the title—“Snippity, snappity, snake”. I ended with a higher tone to it, smiling the fakest smile. I thought it was cool at first, but now it sounded more like a kindergarten manual.
He squinted his eyes. “Remind me to never have you help me cover up a dead body.”
“Psychooo,” I sing-songed before throwing the book on the floor with a loud bang and pouncing on his leg. “Too slow.”
“Hey, there.” Ares tried to shake off my hand in a faint attempt. “Who says it’s for you?”
I turned around, my head hanging off the bed. It was easier this way to look up at his tall frame. Although upside-down, he probably could see my brain right down my nostrils.
