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“Of course you’re not,” she appeases, but something about her tone makes me narrow my eyes.
“We’re not a thing,” I repeat.
Tate and Xander’s eyes volley between our small group and Tate mutters something about regretting asking. But James snorts, not letting the conversation die. “How many times have you guys fucked now?”
I scratch my chin. “Like just how many times we’ve fucked? Or how many different occasions? ‘Cause those are pretty different answers.” I smirk. “Or how many times she’s come, ‘cause that number is even higher.”
Wells smacks me upside the head as James rolls his eyes. “So a lot,” James says.
“Never known Tor to hookup with the same guy more than a couple times,” Beau muses and I wonder again how long they’ve known each other and how close they actually are. He always talks like he knows her well. She does too, now that I think about it. “Not really known to stay around long enough to fuck more than once each time either.”
“It’s good sex. Worth hanging around for round two.” Isla smirks, stifling her laugh and I wink at her. “And round three.” Wells smacks me again.
“Uh huh,” James huffs. “And she moved in for good sex too?”
Tate’s eyes widen. “Torryn moved in with you?” I can feel his disapproval wafting off him in waves.
“Woah, woah, woah,” I say, putting my hands up in defense. “Let’s not be dramatic now. Isla moved in too.”
“What?” Tate snaps, his eyes flashing to Isla and Wells.
She shakes her head. “Hate to agree with Baylor here, but isn’t that kind of an extenuating circumstances thing?”
James and Beau trade looks as if debating the validity of her point.
“Their apartment was broken into and ransacked,” I remind them in exasperation. “Were we supposed to leave them there?” Isla nods along with my words. Handing me her water bottle as I drain another cup of beer. I take it, grateful for her in more than one way now.
Tate looks to Xander for help, his hand running through his hair. “I am missing so much context.”
Xander pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t think we’re needed for this conversation, but it is entertaining.”
Beau and James continue their silent conversation but finally James nods. “We concede that point,” he declares. “Either one of us would have also insisted they both move in.” At least they aren’t asses to women, good to know. “But that doesn’t explain the truck,” he continues.
“A solid point,” Wells pipes up. Fucking asshole. I didn’t realize letting her borrow my truck was going to cause so much bitterness in my housemates.
“You guys would let her bus across town alone? At night?”
Doubt passes their faces but they seem determined to keep this conversation going. Why can’t they just drop it? Warmth buzzes in my veins as the alcohol starts to work its magic.
“Fine, fine, fine,” Beau relents. “I guess sleeping in your shirt, in your bed is also totally just fuck buddy territory then.”
I point my water bottle in Isla’s direction. “Extenuating circumstances, like she said.” She rolls her lips, hiding her smile. It’s not like I’m going to air out Tor’s dirty laundry just to make myself look better though. She already had a hell of a night last night, she doesn’t need everyone to know how much it hit her. She would hate that. Wells saw the state she was in. She needed someone. It didn’t have to be me, but I was there so it was.
He must sense the conversation veering into territory that Tor would be uncomfortable with because he finally steps up, putting his hands up to wave their questions away. Both Jamesand Beau shut their mouths as they wait. “The real question is,” he starts, meeting my eyes and pausing. “Would you care if she fucked another guy?”
Xander raises his hand. “I’ll fuck her. She sounds fun,” he taunts, earning a smack to the chest from Tate.
Ignoring him, I wave Wells off. “When would she even have the time to? That’s why we both like our situation. We don’t have to go looking for ass.” Simple and makes perfect sense. It’s not a relationship. It’s convenience. Vodka burns my throat as I take another generous sip, scrunching my nose as it goes down.
Beau snorts. “You know she works at a strip club, right?” he asks, astonished. “She could get ass any time she wants.”
My mouth parts open in shock. “She's a bartender,” I argue.
He nods slowly, a grin spreading across his stupid face. “At a titty bar.”
“It’s not like she strips,” Isla defends.
Xander curses, whispering something to Tate that sounds suspiciously like he wants to meet Tor now.
