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“Hey, how’s the head shorty?” Maximus calls loudly as Jason and Sean both laugh. I chance a glance at Christian whose eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline.
“I thought you weren’t stupid?” he remarks throwing my own words in my face. I walk past him and grab a croissant from the table as I sit in an empty chair.
“Like you never got so drunk you had to be helped home at my age!” I reply. Christian shakes his head looking smug whilst drinking his strong black coffee.
“Nope.”
Jason burst out laughing as he reaches over and picks up a croissant from the table.
“Well, that’s a lie.”
Christian turns to face his brother frowning.
“When did I ever need help getting home?” he asks a smirking Jason.
“You were seventeen and had gotten into dad’s whiskey with Terry. You puked all over the stairs and your bedroom. Terry and I had to carry you to your room. Mrs Brown was ready to kill you when she saw the mess,” Jason reminds his brother before winking at me. I can’t help smiling at the thought of a drunk Christian. He’s a control freak, he hates anything not going to plan, the thought of him being so drunk that he can’t stand amuses me greatly.
“See I wasn’t lying, I didn’t need help getting home, I was already there,” Christian points out lifting his cup.
“So you aren’t as perfect as you like to pretend to be,” I say grinning. Christian looks at me with one arched brow.
“I’ve never claimed to be perfect. My point was that you should not have allowed yourself to get that drunk when there was no one around to watch your back.”
I roll my eyes as I pull my croissant apart. “I had people watching my back,” I protest, instantly regretting it, because I know I didn’t. The girls had ditched me, and I still haven’t heard from them. I can’t believe they left me like that with Damien of all people. I can see from the look on Christian’s face he isn’t impressed either.
“That idiot boyfriend of yours doesn’t count.”
I let out a deep breath as I reach over and steal his last strawberry from his plate. He looks up at me with his blue eyes and I smirk as I slowly bite into it.
“Yum,” I moan as I close my eyes and enjoy the sweet taste. “Do we have any more, these are delicious,” I ask turning to look at Maximus who is smiling at me.
“Don’t try and change the subject, we are going to discuss this.” I hear the warning in Christian’s voice and instantly want to rebel. I roll my eyes and look around the table at the other three brothers who are all watching me.
“I know you don’t like Damien. You didn’t like Mark and youhatedLawrence. Will you ever like any of my boyfriends?”
“No!” all four answer together, and I throw my hands up in defeat.
“So, there’s nothing to discuss. You don’t like him, and I don’t particularly after last night, so I’ll probably end it at the party tonight.”
“What party?” Jason asks from across the table.
“There’s a house party tonight and we’re all going,” I explain, leaving out the point that the house is Damien’s. I quickly hold my hands up to stop anyone from shouting at me. “Don’t panic I won’t be drinking much after last night, I learned my lesson!”
Maximus, Sean and Jason all look at Christian. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s staring at me. I can feel his disappointment radiating from him and I hate it.
“I don’t think you should go.”
“Excuse me?” I ask frowning. Christian rubs his face and looks at me with a look that makes me want to instantly rebel. I might not like that he is disappointed in me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t instantly hate that he thinks he can boss me around.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea you going to a house party when you were so drunk last night you couldn’t even stand.”
I stare at him for a moment, before jumping to my feet and storming out of the room. Even as I’m doing it I know I’m being childish, but he just makes me so mad at times. I stomp up the stairs and slam the bedroom door behind me as I stand seething in the middle of the room. I can hear him coming after me and I turn to face the door with my arms crossed over my chest as I glare at it, ready for him to appear.
Christian doesn’t knock he walks straight in and stands there staring right back at me.
“Have you finished with the dramatics?” he asks as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. The sleeves of his shirt are pulled tight at the top and I can see the shadow of his tattoos through the material.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I yell as it takes all my conscious effort not to stamp my feet in protest.
