Sweet Keeper (Sweet Talkers Book 1)

by Thalia Sanchez

  I find myself gawking like a complete idiot. She looks hot and stunning. She is pretty with her unkempt style, but today her beauty is on a whole different level.

  “Why are you knocking like you are part of the FBI, woman? There’s a fucking doorbell right there.” Ryder points at the corner of the door as he scolds her.

  I’ve been staring at her longer than I should’ve. I’m not used to seeing her like this. It’s different, but I’d be lying if I said that I don’t enjoy it.

  “It’s more fun that way,” Bree replies and holds up a bottle. “I brought wine. Is that okay?”

  Ryder grabs the bottle from her, examining it.

  “We invite you over, and you bring us alcohol? I think I might marry you,” he comments, turning on his heels to leave the bottle on the kitchen island. “Although we have to discuss your knocking problem.”

  Bree giggles.

  I notice that Ryder goes back to his position on the couch, but he doesn’t press play to what he was watching. He’s waiting to hear our conversation. I know that Ryder wants to prove his point that there’s tension between the little devil and I. Sadly, he’s not going to get it.

  Bree’s still standing in front of the door, waiting for me to let her in. Quickly, I move to the side, making a gesture with my head to invite her in. Her eyes travel the apartment as she steps inside, taking in everything that’s in her sight.

  My eyes fall on her ass for a split second before I do my best to keep them at shoulder length. I don’t know if I prefer her ass in leggings or that pair of jeans.

  “This is nice,” she mumbles, nodding in approval.

  “Thanks. Honestly, this is all thanks to Ryder’s stepmom,” I say, tilting my head.

  I wish that I was lying, but it’s the truth. If it wasn’t for Pat, our place would be a mess. She took care of all the decorations, the furniture, and that the colors matched. I think she did it for her mental health than for our peace.

  “My apartment is a total disaster,” Bree confesses, wrinkling her nose. “We tried to decorate it, but it was awful. We have different styles.”

  That catches my interest.

  “With how many people do you live with?”

  I know that she’s close to Ash Moore. That’s not a secret since Ash is featured in a lot of her photos. It’s an excellent combination that works for both of them: a model and a photographer. However, Bree’s always talking about her roommates as if there was more than one.

  “Three. They were all at the party,” Bree replies with an unbothered shrug. “Anyway, I’m starving, and I was offered a gourmet pasta.”

  “I gotta warn you. This is something that you’ve never tasted. It’s probably going to ruin pasta for you.”

  I was expecting an amused reaction, but instead, she laughs with skepticism. My mom cooks like the gods, and I’m a decent student when it’s not a chemistry-related topic.

  “You have competition, Stanley,” she warns. “My mom is a chef.”

  Panic jolts through me as I walk to the kitchen to serve her. Her mom is a chef? How am I supposed to beat that? If I had been trying to impress her, I would’ve failed with this. I lost the game before I even had the opportunity to make a move.

  Not that I’m trying anything with her, so it shouldn’t matter if I impress her with my culinary abilities or not. Although, there’s still a bitter taste in my mouth thinking about it.

  “Do you have glasses?”

  “No, Bree. We drink from our hands,” I reply sarcastically. From the corner of my eye, I can see how she shows me her middle finger. “Yeah, they’re in the upper shelf.”

  Bree groans.

  “Of course. The upper shelf.”

  I glance at her.

  “Hey, don’t criticize the way we organize our stuff.”

  “Have you seen me?” She points at herself with her right hand.

  I can’t hold back the snicker when I connect the dots. Bree can’t reach the shelves. Not even if she stood on the tip of her toes.

  “Okay, dwarf. How do you organize everything in your apartment?” Curiosity sparks inside me. I reach the shelf and take out two glasses and two plates. Bree mutters something barely audible. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “We have a ladder,” she repeats louder.

  The laugh that emerges from my mouth is hysterical, my shoulders shaking.

  “What?”

  Bree glares at me, sending me straight to hell with one look.

  “Don’t be a jerk.”

  I hold up my hands.

  “Why did you want the glass for?” I question instead.

  “For the wine, duh,” she replies in an obvious tone.

  “We have other glasses for that.” I point at the other shelf with my thumb.

  Bree ignores me and grabs the bottle with confidence, opening it expertly. I know for a fact that she drinks wine a lot because it’s the only way she can open it like that.

  “I can fit more wine in here,” she argues, shaking her empty cup to prove her point as she pours a considerable amount of the burgundy liquid.

  I think Pat would’ve had a heart attack by Bree’s lack of etiquette. The truth is that I don’t have a preference to understand how the division of glasses works. Everything is pretty much the same for me, so I don’t care.

  I let her drink whatever she wants and proceed to divide the food between our plates. I let Ryder serve himself because I’m not his personal waiter, and he has been a pain in the ass. Holding the dishes, I step to the table when Bree’s hand wraps around my arm.

  “I don’t eat on tables,” Bree explains out of nowhere, grabbing one of the plates. She puts it on the marble surface of the island, and when I think that she’s going to eat standing, Bree hops on the island, sitting next to the plate. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Shaking my head, I decide that there’s not a proper way to get her. She just does whatever is on her mind without giving explanations, and I don’t mind it. She surprises me for sure, but I’m getting used to this.

  “I’m convinced that you’re from another world.”

  Bree laughs.

  Instead of going to the table, I stay with her, putting my plate next to hers and take a bite from the food.

  Bree moans when she leads the fork to her mouth. Nodding a couple of times, she allows the taste to settle.

  A spark of pride blossoms on my chest because, even if she hasn’t admitted it, I know that I impressed her.

  We eat in silence. I’m amused by the fact that Bree eats quickly, almost seeming like she’s going to choke on the food, or as if someone is going to take it away. She finishes before I do and stays drinking the rest of her wine.

  “I told you that I was hungry,” she excuses herself, her cheeks acquiring a pink tone when she catches me staring.

  “I don’t judge you, I swear. Out of the two of us, you’re the judgy one.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Bree pleads, rolling her eyes with irritation. “I might cancel this friendship trial.”

  “Oh, no, no. You can’t back out, Bree. We’re friends, you admitted it yourself.” Ryder coughs from the living room, letting me know that he’s still listening to us. I suppress the monumental impulse of hitting him. “You can’t get rid of me.”

  Bree narrows her eyes.

  “I doubt that. You’re still pretty irritating.”

  “And it doesn’t get better with time,” Ryder intervenes.

  My groan mixes with Bree’s laugh, an opposite reaction to my roommate’s interruption.

  “Look who’s talking,” I spit, exasperated.

  “Honestly, I love your friendship. You’re like an old married couple,” Bree comments, shifting her gaze between us.

  I catch a small glow in her brown eyes, along with her playful smirk.

  “Aw, thanks. I always knew that,” Ryder says, standing up from the couch to join the conversation formally. Instead of standing in his own space, the son of a bitch
hugs me from the back, pressing a kiss on my shoulder. “See, love? We’re amazing together.”

  I want to get away from him, but Ryder’s grab stays still as iron, keeping me in place.

  “Get off, dumbass!”

  Bree’s hollering is thundering as she watches the scene developing before her eyes. I’m sure we look like total dickheads, but this is something that I have to deal with a lot. My mom has thought more than once that we’re in a secret relationship, and Ryder only needs a little flame to create a forest fire. Right now, he’s trying to put me to shame as a social experiment, but it’s not working because Bree is enjoying the show.

  After the way that our bizarre friendship began, I doubt that there’s a way for me to be ashamed in front of her.

  “Oh, someone’s in a mood. Don’t worry, babe, when Bree leaves, I’ll make that crankiness go away,” Ryder promises, smirking and winks at me. He lets me go, and I roll my eyes, feeling the heat go all the way up to my ears.

  “Don’t brag in front of me if you’re not going to invite me. That’s wrong, Ryder.”

  My entire body freezes when I hear her say that. I think that even Ryder is stunned because he chokes on his saliva. He doesn’t make a smartass answer nor a flirty comment, maybe because there’s not a way to do it without sounding severe.

  I don’t want the thought to cross my mind, but it does. The idea is swift and fleeting, and I can’t help it. There’s an embarrassing moment where the truth comes to life, and it’s that if Bree were being serious about it—which I think she isn’t—I wouldn’t say no.

  I must be losing my mind. I just thought about having a threesome with Ryder and Bree, and the idea didn’t scare me as much as it should.

  Fuck.

  “It’s official, Bree. I want to marry you,” Ry reacts, following her game.

  “Only if I can keep your millions after you die in suspicious conditions,” Bree proposes with a wink.

  Ryder lets out a shaky laugh. I think that he wouldn’t deny the threesome either. But Bree isn’t serious about it.

  I fucking hope…

  “This has been the highlight of my day.” Ryder reaches for his phone in his pocket and extends it in front of us. “I have to take a photo of this to make it last. Stan, get closer.”

  The asshole has his tricks because he positions himself in a way that forces me to stand close to Bree, her face being right next to mine. I can feel the heat coming out of her body. I’m not all that comfortable, so I put my hand on her lower back. Part of me, the horny one still thinking about her comment, wants to check if there’s been a change in her body language, but she remains completely relaxed. Bree’s staring directly at the camera, smiling widely.

  As soon as Ryder takes the photo, Bree asks for his phone to check if it’s a good one, and I stray away like her body burns. I can feel part of my neck hot, but not because I am, but because I’m behaving like this girl is a possible conquest. I’m afraid that Ryder’s abnormal psychology is taking a toll on me already. It took less than an hour for it to start working.

  Maybe I just need to get laid.

  Not with her. She’s a friend.

  Bree stays for two more hours in which we watch a movie together. And by that, I mean the three of us, but that’s enough distraction to get my mind off the conversation that I had with Ryder before she came over. The truth is that we didn’t even study. I think that it’s not something that crossed our minds because we were having fun. Everything felt exactly as it should’ve been, as a hang out between friends.

  Bree has a weird sense of humor, and everything feels chaotic with her, but her laugh is contagious. We have good chemistry.

  Before she leaves, I ask her to text me when she gets home, so I don’t worry about her wellbeing.

  I make sure to avoid Ryder after she leaves. Hiding in my room, I turn on the music and wait for her message. It doesn’t take that long, and fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzes with a new notification.

  Bree: I got home, Pasta boy. Thanks for the invite. I had a lot of fun.

  Her brief message is enough to make me smile. I’m about to reply when another notification comes in. Curiosity spreads through my system when I identify her username tagging me in a photo. I decide to see it before I text back.

  If I was smiling before, now I’m sure that I look like a maniac staring at the phone. Bree posted the photo that Ryder took in the kitchen, but it’s the caption that has me floating all over the place.

  Best pasta in town with my boys.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ryder convinced me to go to a sorority party on Halloween. A similar one to the disastrous one where Stanley and I officially met.

  My roommates are also persuaded, mainly because this includes a free pass to consume alcohol, and because Ryder knows how to convince people. Ash was going to attend anyway, not because she’s a party girl, but because she’s partially associated with the sorority that’s throwing the fest.

  Ryder is pretty persuasive and persistent when he wants something, and by that, I mean that he kept bugging me for two hours until I finally caved in. Honestly, the jerk used the “I’m one of your boys” card, and I couldn’t refuse.

  Part of me regrets writing that caption, while the other doesn’t mind because he’s a nice guy and a good friend. Both Stanley and Ryder are.

  Surprisingly enough, I like Stanley’s presence and spending time with him for stuff that isn’t related to college or the class that we’re close to failing. If I have to repeat the course, I still got something good out of it, but I don’t want to think about my classes.

  The only thing that matters tonight is the costume party. The one that threatens to be a bad idea. I’ll go anyway because my judgment is never the best. I’ve already spent hours getting ready. Ash had the magnificent idea to have matching costumes, and I suggested to honor the nickname that Stanley gave me.

  That’s why I have devil horns on top of my head.

  This costume is probably the most basic thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, but this is a night where it doesn’t matter if you dress up as something cliché. What counts is that you have fun and take bomb photos. It’s one of those nights in the entire year where there are no restrictions; when you have the freedom to do whatever you like and be whoever you want.

  Tonight, I leave behind my hoodie and leggings. Instead, I’m wearing a short and tight red skirt that barely covers my ass, and a crop top of the same color that makes my inexistent boobs say “hello”. The little cleavage cuts deep between my tits with a perverse invitation to look at them. Mesh stockings hug my legs, disappearing in my black high-heeled boots.

  Ash helped me with the makeup because I’m not the best at combining colors and eyeshadows, so I let her handle it. She did a splendid job with burgundy shadows and a black liner that turns my hazel eyes into feline ones; my glare is fierce, passionate, and intense. My lips end up painted in a provocative bloody red shade.

  For the first time in a while, my hair is straight, and the devil horns stand out.

  Ash is dressed up as a devil too. Unlike me, she’s not wearing a skirt, but a skin-tight red dress with cleavage on her back; her smooth skin is an inviting desire to those who watch her. My best friend is a goddess on Earth, and everyone looks like a peasant next to her.

  Cora and Karma are our perfect counterparts, her angel costumes being a contrast to our devil ones. The truth is that they do seem like ones at first sight. Considering that Ash and I are always wreaking havoc, they are angels. However, they may look like saints, but they’re both capable of raising more hellfire than we do.

  “When are they picking us up?” Ash asks, putting her horns on top of her head.

  The costume suits her better thanks to her snow-white skin and her raven hair, compared to my olive skin and dark brown hair. It won’t be a surprise if Ash ends up with a few phone numbers or even a hookup tonight. If I wasn’t into jerks as much as I am, I’d probably try to have somethin
g with her.

  “They’re on their way,” I reply as I confirm the last message that Stan sent me.

  The only condition that I had for tonight was that they had to be our designated drivers to enjoy the party without worrying. Stanley didn’t complain about enduring a night without drinking. Ryder put up a little resistance at first but agreed to keep himself to a three-beer limit.

  Cora and Karma have been ready for a while now, wearing white dresses and halos on their heads. They’re in the living room with their phones, completely ignoring our presence. Halloween is not their favorite holiday, but it’s something that we agreed on doing since we started living together. In the end, we’re always complaining about going to parties, and we end up not wanting to come back to the apartment.

  I have my hopes up for today.

  “We need to take a couple of photos before they get here,” I tell them, reaching for my camera on the table of the living room. The timer is already configured so I can have time to pose with them.

  This is one of those occasions where I’m grateful that our apartment isn’t decorated because the light gray wall is perfect for a background. It’s the designated area where my tripod sits. As I set up the camera on the tripod, the girls make their way to the wall, talking about the positions they want. When they figure it out, I press the button and run to strike a pose that matches theirs.

  We take a bunch of photos. There’s a couple where we’re all serious with our best resting bitch faces. In others, we’re smiling and making funny faces with diverse poses. Karma sits on the floor with an extended leg, and the other flexed, supporting her weight with both palms resting on the floor. Cora opens her mouth, her hand almost reaching her lips, acting surprised. I bite my bottom lip as I wrap a leg around Ash’s hip, and she grabs a handful of my ass.

  The doorbell interrupts our session. The boys are here.

  “Yo voy!” Karma offers and stands up so fast that I’m shocked that she didn’t fall.

  I roll my eyes because I know where her enthusiasm comes from. It happened since Ash started saying that Stanley was going to end up drooling for me today. As if I’m looking to have something with him.