AllFreeNovel
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Bumping the door shut with my hip, I twist the lock and step into the entry, making it maybe three feet before running into a tower of boxes.
“What the?—”
I pat the side of the box and wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark house. Within a few seconds, I’m able to see my own handwriting on the cardboard. My stomach drops, and irrational thoughts fly around my head as I drop my bag and feel around the wall for the light switch.
Is Ivy kicking me out? Maybe my room flooded. Shit! Did my room flood?
I flip open one of the box tops and see my clothes—garments I spent the afternoon hanging thirty hours ago—folded in half and still clinging to their hangers. This is a bad sign. EverythingI spent the day moving in is pushed against the wall, and my jacket is slung over the back of the couch. I run my hand over the stitching around the letters of my name as I walk past it and round the corner to head to my room. There’s a soft glow of light spilling onto the hallway floor through the cracked-open door. My heart pounds in my chest, then instantly stops when a figure passes across the light.
“Ivy? Matt?” I freeze and contemplate running to the kitchen to grab a knife.
“Hello?” The voice responding from behind the door sounds familiar but I can’t place it. It gives me a dose of comfort, though, that whoever is here isn’t a total stranger. Or my brain is tricking me into a trap and I’m about to be murdered. I ball my hands into fists and hold them at chest level, ready to swing and run. I’m about to pop the door open with a swift kick when the intruder opens it for me and we come face togoddamn-you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-meface.
“Get out of my fucking room!” My fists turn into hard, flat palms that I shove into Cutter’s bare pecs with enough force that they make a smacking sound and leave red imprints behind. My booming pulse pushes against my eardrums as I step into my room and scan for clues. The bed is covered in some heavy black comforter. The dresser is covered in a pile of men’s workout clothes while the top drawer is filled with what looks like boxers and mismatched socks just tossed in and not paired.
“You moved out!” Cutter shouts with this annoying sense of authority that sends me down a momentary rabbit hole of what-the-fuckness.
“I movedin!” I correct him, my palms pressed against the sides of my head, thumbs rubbing pointless circles into my temples.
“No, that’s not what happened. I moved in. And you moved out. Matt said this place was?—”
“I don’t care what Matt said. Ivy and I moved my shit in yesterday! How are you even here? What the hell is happening?” I’m spinning in a slow circle, trying to decide what action to take first. Cutter starts pacing, and the woody scent of whatever body wash he used makes me nauseous.
“Oh, my God! Did you usemyshower?” I point out the door to the bathroom across the hall. My eyes scan along the floor to Cutters feet, which are bare. There’s a damp towel on the floor—the carpeted floor—so I lunge at it and snatch it in my hand.
“And you’re leaving wet towels on the floor? What is happening?” I march the wet towel across the hall and toss it in the sink. My eyes widen at the razor, shaving cream and aftershave all sitting where my brush and body spray were when I left this morning. My white towels are gone, too. Instead, these gross navy blue ones are basically shoved onto the rack.
“No. Just . . . no.” I fly back into the room and immediately begin to roll up the blanket on the bed. Cutter grabs it before I can hurl it into the hallway, and our eyes meet mid tug-of-war. He’s holding his phone against his ear.
“Yeah, you need to get here now. There’s an issue with your former roommate.” His eyes sear into me as he listens to what I’m guessing is Matt on the other end of the line. I jerk the blanket, hoping to catch him off-guard, but he’s too quick, pulling back almost immediately and drawing my body into his.
“Ugh!” I shove the blanket into his body and push away from him. His eyes dim and he smirks. Asshole.
“See you in a minute. Thanks.” He tosses his phone onto the bed, along with the balled-up blanket.
“Matt will be here in a minute. He’s parking out front.” He crosses his arms over his smug self and I cough out a laugh.
“You think Matt is going to somehow make you right? Matt’s an idiot. Screw this. I’m calling Ivy.” I march out to the main room, snag my bag, and take out my phone. I put it on speakeras it rings and walk back into the bedroom where Cutter is annoyingly tucking his clothes into dresser drawers.
“What’s up? I’m here until two. You all right?” Ivy’s wired on coffee, which makes her loud. Good, because I need my loud, aggressive friend right now.
“We have a problem, Ives. Seems your brother moved in a Neanderthal.” I scowl at Cutter, then grab the pair of sweatpants he just put in the drawer and toss them to the floor.
“What? Hold on. Let me step into the break room.” Ivy’s voice muffles as she moves. I grab another pair of pants from the drawer and toss them on top of the last pair.
“Okay, now, what is happening?” Ivy asks.
“I’m standing in my room . . . along with Cutter McCreary. And my things are all in boxes by the front door. And Cutter’s things are all in my room. Hence, the problem.” I think I summed that up nicely.
Matt jets into the room with a bag of fast food in one hand and a pair of sunglasses in the other. It’s night. No need for shades.
“Hey, man, what’s . . . oh, hey, Laney!” Matt says as he catches a glimpse of me in his periphery. He slings one arm around me and drags me into him for a hug that I do not reciprocate.
“Matt, what the fuck did you do!” his sister screams through the phone I’m still holding in my palm.
“Ivy?” He squints and reads her name as I hold up my screen.
“Yeah, Matt. What the fuck did you do?” I pile on.
