AllFreeNovel
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“You’re impossible to stay away from. Everywhere I look, there you are. So I’m done fighting it. I’m throwing in the towel. Let me get to know you more.”
Maybe we’ll never get what we had onFollowersback. Online, she’s a dream. She’s sweet, charming, and funny. In person? She’s a fucking trip. Yes, some of that is my doing.Okay, a lot of it is my doing.But she gets on my nerves too.
Her stomach growls.When was the last time she ate?
Since meeting her, it’s like I’m in a sea of men throwing money at her.Followers, at the bar, everywhere I go. I refuse to wait in line and beg at her feet with the rest of them. If I’m to have something with Freya, there will be no sharing her. She was too casual about doing it for side money. I don’t believe that. There’s only two reasons women go online to show off their bodies: One, they desperately need the money, or two, they genuinely love doing it. I suspect it’s the latter for Freya, and she just doesn’t want to admit that she relishes all the attention. It’s possible there’s more to it, but I’ll never find out because getting close to her is damn near impossible. The walls she puts up around her are thicker than the Hoover Dam.
I get she’s pissed, but Christ Almighty, put the playlist on shuffle. It drives me insane. I don’t wantjustthe feistiness, but I also don’t wantjustQueen of Tarts. It’s the combination that’s so irresistible. At the moment, she’s only giving me the wild rebel.
“I miss the Queen of Tarts.”
She keeps her focus on sorting through one of the plastic bags of bolts, screws, and washers. Her stomach growls again, this time louder than before. “There’s a million other content creators onFollowerswilling to show you their tits. Have at ’em.”
If we’re going to argue all night, she’s going to have to eat some food first. Besides, I could eat. I open a meal delivery app and pull up one of my usual places. I feel her eyes boring into me, and she clears her throat a couple times like she’s getting impatient with me. If she has something to say, she can come out and say it. None of that passive-aggressive bullshit. When I don’t respond, she begins what I can only describe as rage-Allen-wrenching. I finish typing in her apartment number instead of mine when she throws the tool down.
“I didn’t mean for you to look them up now. I thought you were here to help me.”
I’ll let her assume whatever she wants. I toss my phone on the rug and stare her down while grabbing the two big pieces sitting next to her.
“Come here. Hold this at ninety degrees while I screw the side in.”
After hesitating, she eventually gives in and sits next to me to hold the parts as I instructed. Her scent is different from before. It’s not the soft floral scent she wore earlier. Whatever she’s wearing now is more seductive. She’s dangerously close, it would be so easy to sink my fingers into her sides and pull her into me.
“It’s sexy when you do what I say,” I mutter.
“You’re the worst.” Her voice has softened. Finally, the friction in the room is dissipating.
“Alright, I’m going to flip it up on its side, so you’re going to have to use your big-girl muscles and hold it steady while I attach the hardware.”
“’K’.”
That’s the first thing she’s said all night that isn’t laced with animosity, and it’s not even a full word. I feel her eyes on me. My ego can’t resist peeking at her. Sure enough, she’s checking out my arms with zero shame as I hold up one end of the sofa. Our eyes meet, and she averts her gaze immediately.
My lips curve into a half smirk. “Saw that.”
We finish building the rest of the sofa in silence. The desk comes together easier, until I fuck up the drawer rollers and accidentally install them upside down. If that’s the biggest mistake I make tonight, I’ll be in good shape. Unfortunately, all my mistakes have to do with her. And based on her hostility this evening, they’ll take a lot longer to fix.
As I’m finishing adding one of the last parts, the food arrives. She pads over to the door and stands on her tiptoes to look out the peephole. If she hadn’t been spitting venom all night, I might actually think it was cute. She opens the door.
“Sorry, I didn’t order—”
“Aye!” I push off the floor. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s for us.”
I hand him a cash tip and take the tall, warm paper bag from his arms and thank him before kicking the door shut behind me.
“I wasn’t looking up newFollowersearlier, I was ordering food. I could hear your stomach growling from across the room,” I tell her, laying out the food on her kitchen island. “Get over here, I know you’re hungry.”
She drops the pieces in her hands and tries to coolly walk over to the kitchen. It’s obvious she’s starving, but she’s too proud to say anything.
“What did you order?”
“Thai.”
“I’m allergic to peanuts.”
The container in my hand freezes in midair. “Are you shitting me?”
“Yes.” She gives me the first real grin of the night. It’s small, but it’s a start.
