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“What kind of crisis?” I ask, hoping that it’s not a silly thing because I’m not in the mood for that yet.
“Your dad is on his way here.”
His words catch me off guard, and I cough, choking on my saliva.
“What?” I question, not knowing if I imagined it or if he indeed said that.
Stanley’s face is severe, and his eyes have a spark of anguish. He’s not joking around.
“Ash called. Your dad went to your place to pick you up, and he was pretty surprised to find out that you weren’t there,” he explains quickly.
I sit on the bed, absorbing everything that he said. I understand now how this is a crisis because my dad will be pissed off that I didn’t tell him that I wasn’t going to be at my apartment and because he doesn’t know that I stayed with a guy. Of course, I won’t tell him that I shared a bed with Stan and that the last thing we did was sleep. However, my dad is an intuitive person, and I’m very expressive.
“Wait, Ash has your number?”
“Ryder’s.”
Although I’m interested in it, I don’t make comments about it, focusing on the fact that I don’t have time to look like a decent human being before my dad gets here.
“Where are my clothes?”
Stanley points at the pile of folded clothes on top of his desk.
“Ryder put them in the washer last night,” he lets me know.
I’m really in debt with these guys because I don’t know what I did to deserve this kind of treatment. They’re amazing. I’m a lucky bastard; Ryder and Stanley are a pair that everyone deserves to have in their lives.
Turning around, I kiss his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I say with a smile. “Now, is there a bathroom around here that’s not inside Ryder’s room?”
Stanley arches a brow.
“What, no morning striptease?” He hums, shaking his head.
I hold back a chuckle.
“Sorry, handsome, but you lost your chance of seeing me naked when you rejected me last night.” I wink at him, and he laughs as I stand up, grabbing my clothes.
His eyes travel down to my legs.
“Next door,” he directs me, pointing at the right side.
I blow him a kiss and go out of his room, following his direction. I turn the knob with confidence, and I’m not prepared to see what’s inside—more likewho’s inside.
John Carter is standing in front of the sink, passing his hands through the black strands of his wet hair. A single towel is wrapped around his hips, covering the essential parts of him. His tattoos stand out on his arms. I spot a small one on his upper side, tiny numbers that I can’t decipher.
For a second, I’m startled, and I trail my eyes off him, my cheeks brightening. I didn’t want to stumble upon him. Not in his apartment. My mind completely forgot that he lived here. I didn’t even think about this when I got out of Stan’s room.
“Sorry,” I squeak, turning around.
“I was already leaving,” he says, unbothered. I remain at the door, avoiding his gaze at all costs. He walks past me and stops, a malicious grin forming on his mouth. “You know? I find it funny that you’re seducing my roommate after that message that you sent me. I’m curious, is he your rebound?”
Anger ignites in my chest, spreading through my system, burning my veins, and boiling my blood. His audacity amazes me. The fact that he’s trying to make it look like I’m less than him, that I’m with Stanley because I couldn’t get to him, disgusts me. He doesn’t know me. The only thing that he has gained from me is an embarrassing message. John has no right to assume things about me.
I despise the moment where I found him attractive for the first time.
“I can’t even say that he is because I’d have to consider you a man, and you’re barely a boy.” I sneer with so much venom that I’m surprised that I haven’t poisoned myself.
