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“I need a break,” I mutter. “Can I get some water?”
Tessa nods. “Let me get you a glass.”
I follow her the few steps over to the kitchen and lean against the far wall as she pours me a drink.
Joel gets off his lazy ass and disappears into what I assume is the bathroom, based on the layout of my own apartment.
I motion toward the closed door with my glass. “He knows his way around here.”
She grabs her glass from earlier and refills hers, too. “He helped me move in.” She takes a small sip. “Well, more like directed the movers. I don’t think he actually carried anything.”
Yeah, that seems about right from what I’ve seen so far.
“He’s, uh…” I search for the best way to say this, nothing tactful coming to mind. “He’s kind of annoying.”
Her lips press together tightly.
“I wouldn’t normally shit on anyone’s friends,” I continue, “but I’m almost at my limit here. He hasn’t said a single nice thing to you all night.”
Her head tilts down, her silence speaking volumes.
“Is he always like this?”
“I’ve been noticing it more lately,” she murmurs.
“So why are you friends with him?”
“I…” She glances behind her, the bathroom door still closed. “Maybe he’s stressed. He’s only been acting like this for the last couple of weeks. I’m sure he’ll be back to normal soon.”
I shrug, but there’s a nagging feeling I can’t let go of. “Is there anything going on between you two?” Maybe he thinks I’m encroaching on his territory or something. Not that that explains why he keeps insulting Tessa.
She blinks at me, brows narrowing. “Like romantically? No.”
There’s clear dismissal in her tone, something easing within me at her response.
Not that it should matter, I remind myself.
“Why would you think that?” she asks, still seeming perplexed.
“I’m just trying to put a motive to his behavior. Sorry for suggesting it.”
The bathroom door finally opens and Joel takes his seat on the couch again, looking at us expectantly. “You done practicing?”
“I still wanted to do some more,” Tessa replies, heading back to the living room.
“How about elbow strikes next?” I suggest.
She grins at me. “I was working on those last night after work.”
She does the movement a few times, but it’s not long before Mister Criticism has something to say.
“You’ve been practicing? Doesn’t look like it.”
“Can you be positive at all?” I ask him, keeping my voice as even as I can. “She’s trying really hard.”
He recoils, as if I shouted at him, when I most definitely did not. Trust me, I wanted to.
“I’m helping Tessa.”
