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He legitimately grimaces, his hands coming together in front of him in a nervous tick, one nail picking under the other.
“Hey, Aurora …” He’s almost sheepish, his eyes softening on me.
I must look like total garbage. My hangover is hungover.
And maybe still a little under the influence.
“So you just take any fucking job that shows up?” I ask with a flick of the wrist, letting on how I feel thanks to my angered tone. All it earns me is a sigh from Jonathon, though, one that pisses me off even more.
This guy has been hanging around, all sweet and helpful. So why the fuck is he checking Rex mother fucking Thompson’s band’s RV like he works for them—wearing the same damned shirt as the meathead—but has spent the last few weeks trying to get into my pants?
“Are you even qualified for half the shit you do?” I poke, my mood in the shitter and willing to drag everyone with me.
“Wow, ok.” Jonathon scoffs at my attitude and slides into the plush leather recliner across from me. He takes up the whole damn thing and then some with his shoulders hunched toward me, elbows resting on his knees. “I was asked to hang around. That’s it. The rest was on me.”
As if that excuses showing up at our door with motive.
“I don’t even care what that means.” I turn in my seat, facing the window shade I’m not allowed to move, and do my best Ice Queen impression. “Apparently you’re all a bunch of fucking liars.” He jerks back like I decked him, his spine snapping straight, eyes narrowing.
“Not sure who you’re talking about, but it ain’t fucking me.” He pats his own knee and pushes to his feet. Jonathon towers over me, not intending to be menacing, and I might feel like he was, had I been someone else. “You need some caffeine before you piss the wrong person off.”
“Like you?” I whip my gaze to match the fire I see burning behind his eyes. “I’d ask you, since I can’t fucking leave this hellhole, but who knows where you’d end up.” I shrug and feign nonchalance, turning away from him to admire my nails like they’re more interesting than he is. “Maybe fixing some chick’s drain or some shit.” I give a quick sniffle and pick at a cuticle while he scoffs at me.
“Aurora.” Is all he says. Soft and yet curt, I can hear the shake of his head. It’s Jonathon’s way of saying goodbye as he spins away from me and walks out the door like he still owns the fucking bus we’re on.
Fucking fuck him.
Liar pants. Must be a fire somewhere.
The door slams in his wake, drawing Ian’s attention, but making me roll my eyes.
“Drama King.” I accuse out loud, sneering in his direction.
“I really don’t think the drama came from him.” Ian’s deep timbre reverberates across the space between us, commanding. Almost like a correction to me. Like a dad might speak to a kid who’s acting out.
“Fuck you, too, Ian. You fucking meathead.” I spit the words in his direction. Who is he tocorrectme?
Who does he think he is?
I did just insult the fuck out of one of his guys though ….
I recognize I could have handled that better. I do.
I’m just sick of the sneaky bullshit, the lying, the fuuuucking waaaaiting.
“You’re rude as hell, Aurora.” Ian drops the bomb on me, then just walks away from me to the other end of the RV, his back staying to me, even when he sits in another seat.
Ian straight-up adjusts the seat until he’s facing completely away from me.
What a fucking cock.
I shake my head, steadfast in my attitude, and send another message to Cedar.
Me: Rescue me. Bring loads of caffeine. Fucking, please.
Me: I def just pissed in Jon’s Wheaties. How the fuck is he involved in all this shit?
C: Can’t get there, they won’t let riff-raff like me in. You’re fine. Quit being an ass. X
