“No.” He took another sip as he relaxed back in his seat.

“Yes, I have. All the time.”

He shook his head. “When you showed up at the party the other night, you looked terrified, like you’d stepped into some hostel in a foreign country that drugs unsuspecting tourists so they can sell their organs on the black market.”

“You got all that from one look?”

“It was one hell of a look, Kettle.”

I relaxed back in my seat and drank a sip from my cup as Trish made her way back to the table.

“I just had the best idea.” She clapped her hands together as she slid into her seat. “What if we hook you up with Adam? He’s cute.”

“I think I’d rather stay home and read.”

“No one would rather read than have fun.”

“Reading is fun,” I said defensively, but Trish just giggled. “Didn’t you already sleep with Adam?”

Trish’s eyes went wide with embarrassment. Abel cleared his throat as his gaze danced between the two of us.

“I have some work to do, but I can pick you up around eight,” Abel said, and Trish agreed with her pouty, overly pink lip pulled between her teeth.

“Where do you work?” I asked.

“Not a job, just work to do.”

“Mysterious,” Trish said with a smirk.

“More like suspicious,” I mumbled into my cup.

Chapter Eight

Many Talents

The day dragged on painfully slow after Abel dropped us off at home. I took a long bubble bath and began a new book, but the hours crawled by. I don’t know why I wished time away. It wasn’t like tomorrow ever held something exciting and new. I wasn’t working toward anything. I had college, but I had no clear direction and had decided to be undeclared for my freshman year.

I ate leftover spaghetti for lunch and saved some because I knew I’d be having it for dinner as well, since I’d be alone tonight. My phone buzzed beside me as I was sprawled across my bed, four chapters deep into my romance novel. I lifted it to find a text message from an unknown number.

How’s the book?

I glanced around the room and back to my phone, thinking before typing a reply.

Who is this?

My phone vibrated again a few seconds later.

Am I that forgettable, Kettle?

I huffed and dropped my Kindle beside me on the bed.

Stalker.

The phone was quiet for a minute before another text rang through.

Those pajamas are hideous.

I flipped over and yelled as I saw Abel in the doorway of my room. I grabbed my pillow and threw it at him, but he just stood there, letting it bounce off his chest.

“Really? A pillow is your defense against a stalker?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I have a hot date tonight. If I’m lucky she might put out.”

I rolled my eyes as I flipped back onto my stomach and grabbed my Kindle. “You don’t need luck for that, but you may need a dose of penicillin.”

Abel laughed and grabbed my pillow, walking it across the room and tossing it to the head of my bed.

“Where’s Trish?” I asked, not bothering to look up from my Kindle.

“Changing her clothes.”

“And how did you get my number?”

“Magic. It’s one of my many talents—much like your ability to turn men g*y.”

“Is your first talent being a criminal?”

“That hurts. That really hurts, Kettle. You know, if you really want to be like Trish, you need to ditch the books and stop judging people.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I never joke about putting down a book,” he said.

I was wrong. Abel’s first talent was being sarcastic, and it was infuriating.

“So the perfect people have feelings too? I never would have guessed.” I tossed my Kindle and pushed up from the bed. Abel towered over me in a charcoal button‐down shirt and dark‐wash jeans. His hair was messy as usual, and his appearance stopped me in my tracks. He looked hot as hell.

“Oh, no. Not feelings. Just a low tolerance for hypocrites, Kettle.”

“I’m not a hypocrite, and stop calling me ‘Kettle,’ you asshat.” I glared up at him, but his face was relaxed, and I swear I saw a smile tugging on his lips. He enjoyed getting under my skin.

He pulled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch. “This has been fun, but I have a date. Don’t give yourself a paper cut, Kettle.” He turned to leave, and I groaned with frustration.

“It’s a Kindle, you idiot. There is no paper.”

He pulled the door closed behind him, and I wanted to scream, but I just walked to my bed and sunk down on the edge. My door popped open again, and I looked up at Trish with Abel behind her.

“We’re heading out. Don’t party too hard.” She laughed, and I glanced up at Abel, who winked before she pulled the door closed, and I was finally alone.

Once I heard the door to the apartment open and close, I walked to the kitchen and got a glass of wine. OK, it wasn’t a glass; it was a coffee mug, and the wine came from a box. It didn’t matter, because it did the trick either way.

I gulped it down and let the warmth spread throughout my body before I poured another and made my way to the living room. I plopped down on the couch and turned on the television. I hardly ever watched TV anymore, but the house was too quiet when Trish wasn’t here.

I settled on the news and listened to the anchor ramble on about the government until my mug was empty and my eyelids grew heavy. I struggled to hold them open, but I soon gave in, and the anchor’s face was replaced by Brock’s.

“Are you going to sleep all damn day?” Brock whispered in my ear, and I startled awake, wiping my mouth to make sure I hadn’t been drooling. I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself look presentable.

“Shh. You’re going to wake my roommate,” I whispered, and pointed the mountain of blankets in the bed across the room. Heather had moved in late last night, and she didn’t arrive silently. It took two of the workers to drag her in here, and they basically left me to calm her down. It took about an hour before her drugs began to wear off, and then she passed out, snoring like a chainsaw.

Brock glanced over his shoulder and smiled as his eyes met mine again. He brushed his knuckles lightly over my cheek, and I knew my skin blushed red under his touch. “You’re beautiful when you wake up.”

“Hardly.” I pulled my covers off my legs and stepped out of bed. The tile was cold under my feet, and I looked around for my shoes.

“What is it?” he asked, as my eyes scanned the other side of the room. I held my finger to my lips and tiptoed to my new roommate’s side, searching around her bed. I crouched and ran my hand under the bedframe. When my fingers landed on my old sneakers, I grinned as I pulled them out and held them up for Brock to see.

“She seems like she’s going to be fun,” he joked, as I walked toward him and dropped my shoes on the floor. I grabbed his arm to steady myself as I slipped my feet into each one. “You want to get back at her? I could piss on her clothes.”

I laughed a little too loudly. “You’d do that?”

“If it made you feel better, I would.”

“Well, it doesn’t. Boys are so gross.” I let go of his arm and walked to the door, stopping to look back at Brock, who was eyeing the mass of blankets that hid my new roomie. “Come on.”

He shook his head and followed me into the hallway. “You can’t just let her get away with stealing your shoes, Bird. She’ll think you’re weak, and it’ll only get worse.”

“I know. I’ll talk to her about it when she gets up.”

“Yeah, talking will solve the problem.”

“What do you suggest I do?” I stopped and turned to face him, frustrated that even in a place like this I was dealing with bullies. Brock reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear, his expression softening.

“Nothing. You’re a good person, Lie. Don’t ever change that.”

I turned and continued toward the front room, where everyone was waiting to be taken downstairs for breakfast. Brock and I leaned against the back of the couch near the end of the line. Robert, a gangly redhead, leaned next to Brock, his freckled arms folded over his chest as he talked to another boy in front of him.

“He looked like he’d been hit by a f**kin’ truck.” Robert laughed as he replied to the other boy and nudged Brock with his elbow. Brock’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head slightly but didn’t respond. “Come on, man. Back me up here. It was hilarious.”

Brock still didn’t respond, and I leaned forward to look at Robert. “Who are you talking about?” I asked, and Brock stood up straight and turned toward him to block my view.

“Stop trying to start shit,” he growled, which made Robert laugh nervously, but he didn’t relent.

“My bad, man. I didn’t mean to put your business out there in front of your new piece.”

Brock’s hand went around Robert’s throat, and I saw the thin bones in the back of his hand protrude as he gripped tighter.

“Stop it!” I stepped between them and pulled on Brock’s wrist. He reluctantly released his grip as he sneered, “What’s wrong with you?” The line began to move, and Robert stepped around us to follow the others toward the steps.

“Nothing. Let’s go eat, Bird.” He grabbed my hand, but I pulled back, refusing to follow until I had some answers.

“Tell me who he was talking about,” I pressed.

“You want to miss breakfast?” When I didn’t respond, he groaned, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stretched his back. “He was talking about Keller, some dick who was in here before you showed up. We had a disagreement, and I fixed it. No big deal.”

“You hurt him? Why would you do that? You’re not like these guys, Brock. You don’t need to stoop to their level.”

“You’re not like these f**ks, but I am.”

“You’re a bully.” I took a step back, wondering if all this time I was being played, part of some sick joke or a way for Brock to pass the time.

“Lie, I’m not like those ass**les from your school. I would never hurt you.”

“But you hurt other people. Why not me then, huh?”

He took a step closer as one of the workers yelled, “Last call for breakfast.”

I raised an eyebrow at Brock, who made no movement to leave. “What makes you think I’d be OK with that?”

“Bird, the kid wasn’t some innocent little f**k. He asked for what he got. I was protecting myself, just like I’ll protect you.” He took another step, and I didn’t move away. “I never said I was perfect, but I’m trying to be a better person.”

“I know you are.” I avoided his eyes, but he ducked down to make me catch his gaze.

“You forgive me?” He put his hand over his heart, and I simpered, unable to be mad at the one person in the world who cared about me. His arms flew around me, and his lips brushed against my cheek. “I won’t let you down, Bird. I promise.”

I was startled awake by a hand on my shoulder, and my scream was muffled by Abel’s hand over my mouth. His other held a finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet. I pushed up from the cushion and brushed my hair from my face as he knelt next to me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked him. “What time is it?”

“It’s early…or really late. I don’t know. It’s, like, three in the morning.”

I groaned and flopped back down on the couch. “If your booty call is over, please lock the door behind you and make sure to visit your doctor within forty‐eight hours.”

“Wake up, party animal.” He shook my shoulder, and I reluctantly opened my eyes.

“What could you possibly need that’s so important at three a.m.?” I groaned, as I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

“You have a problem.”

“I do, huh? This ought to be good.” I sat up and stretched my arms over my head.

“Yes, you do. Her name is Trish, and she’s f**king obliterated. We did a few shots, and she f**king lost it.”

“Lost it how?” I was wide‐awake with concern now.

“I was asking myself the same question until I discovered the pill bottle in my glove box was gone.”

I rubbed my hands over my face out of frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never joke about—”

I waved him away to stop talking as I stood up from the couch. “It’s too early for your bullshit. Can we tone it down until…let’s say…five in the morning?”

He laughed and stood up next to me. “Fine. I’ll take the couch. Be warned that I tend to sleepwalk when I’m drunk, so wear something sexy to bed.” He stepped closer, and I put my hand on his chest to stop him.

“You aren’t staying here.”

“Kettle, I let you spend the night with me. It’s only fair you do the same.”

“What am I supposed to do about Trish?”

Abel lay out on the couch that I had just been curled up on and closed his eyes, not bothering to respond.

“Just great.” I turned to go to my room.

“Good night, Delilah.”

“ ’Night, Abel.”

I lay awake for the next hour, getting up to check on Trish every few minutes. I was terrified she was going to overdose or vomit all over the place. Her skin was pale, and she shivered like a puppy in the rain. I forced her to drink several glasses of water and eat a few slices of toast. She cursed and swatted at me, but I wasn’t about to let her destroy herself. Eventually the weight of my eyelids won out, and I finally was able to get some shut‐eye.