But who would be the sucker then?
Me.
And I was no sucker.
I held my ground, even as she disappeared into her bedroom and slammed the door so hard, I felt it in my bones.
Shit.
As I stood alone in the silent kitchen, I stared toward her bedroom, fighting like hell to keep myself from striding down the hallway and knocking on her door – or busting through it, if that's what it took.
I wanted answers. And yeah, I wanted her. She was like an itch that I couldn’t scratch, and it was making me fucking crazy.
But I wasn't so crazy that I'd act on any of those impulses. So instead, I played it smart and headed in the opposite direction, leaving through the same door I'd come in.
Chapter 40
Arden
He was such a jerk.
I stewed for almost two hours in my bedroom before I decided that Brody deserved a piece of my mind – and not a nice piece either.
But when I left my bedroom to find him, he was nowhere in sight. Neither was Waverly. Both of their bedroom doors were shut, and the rest of the house was eerily silent even if the lights were still on.
By now, it was past midnight. Were they asleep?
Probably.
After only a moment's hesitation, I marched up to Brody's bedroom door and pounded on it anyway.
Nothing happened.
When I pounded again, the only door that opened was Waverly's. She emerged from her room wearing black silky pajamas and matching slippers. At the sight of me standing at Brody's door, she gave a loud sigh. "What do you want?"
"I wasn't knocking on your door," I said. "I was knocking on his."
"Oh, give it up," she said. "It's a waste of time, and you know it."
I so wasn't in the mood for this. "What exactly do you mean?"
"I mean he's not interested."
Oh, for God's sake. "In what?" I said. "Sex? Is that what you're getting at?"
"Obviously." She smirked. "You do have it, don't you?"
In theory, yes. In reality, it had been a while. In college, I'd had a few steady boyfriends, but none that had lasted, mostly because I'd been far too busy for any kind of relationship.
Plus, I wasn't a quickie kind of gal, which made Waverly's comment all the more irritating. "For your information," I told her, "I'm not knocking for sex. I'm knocking because there's something I need to tell him."
"Oh yeah?" She was still smirking. "What?"
Where to begin? For starters, I was going to tell him that he was the biggest jerk on the planet for asking me about the house and then acting like such an ass after I'd given him an honest answer.
And then, I was going to tell him to shove his condescending attitude where the sun didn't shine. And after that? Well, I wasn't quite sure, but I had plenty of material. All I needed was an audience. And Waverly wasn't it.
I coldly informed her, "That's between me and Brody."
"Just admit it," she said. "You're knocking because you want to hate-fuck him."
Huh? Was that really a thing? I shook my head. "What?"
"Oh, stop acting all innocent," she said. "I see the way you look at him."
"Oh really?" I scoffed. "Is it the same way you look at him?"
Her smirked disappeared. "I have no idea what you mean."
"Sure you do," I said. "You've been drooling over him since the beginning."
"I have not!"
"You have, too," I said. "Maybe you should hate-fuck him."
Her chin lifted. "Maybe I will."
"Good." But even as I said it, I knew that the idea of them together didn't make me any happier than I was now. And that was saying something.
After a few more barbs back and forth, Waverly huffed back into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
In the now-silent hallway, I shoved a hand through my hair and tried to think.
By now, I was so tired of everything – Brody's attitude, Waverly's sniping, and most of all, my own thoughts. The sad truth was, I had been thinking of Brody in ways that weren't totally innocent.
In fact, some of my thoughts were guilty as heck, especially in the dead of night when my imagination wandered and my fingers roamed. During the last week in particular, he'd been starring in all of my hidden fantasies.
How pathetic was that?
It made no sense. I really did hate him, most of the time anyway. Sure, we'd been getting along better lately, but so what?
Obviously, he hated me just as much as I hated him. Otherwise, why would he act like such a jerk?
Now I felt doubly unsatisfied.
I hadn't been able to give him a piece of my mind and I'd expended a sad amount of energy in trying to deny that yes, I might be attracted to him just a little.
Okay, more than a little.
Damn it.
With a sigh, I wandered to the living room, intending to sulk on the sofa.
I never made it.
And why?
It was because when I happened to glance out the front window, I saw Brody's truck in the driveway across the street.
So he was still around?
I flicked off the living room lights and edged closer to the window. Across the street, the lights were on, in spite of the late hour.
What on Earth was Brody doing?
Working?
It wasn't completely impossible.
In spite of my anger, I had to admit, Brody worked incredibly hard – and long hours too. But that didn't change anything. He was still a jerk.
And damn it, I wanted to tell him so.
Almost before I knew what I was doing, I'd already thrown on my sneakers and was heading straight across the street.
He was so going to get it.
And boy did he ever.
Chapter 41
Arden
Dumbfounded, I stood staring at the bathroom door. Brody wasn't working.
He was showering.
But why here?
It made no sense. Back at the crew house, we had two perfectly good showers. Okay, one of those showers was in my bedroom, but that was beside the point.
The whole thing struck me as just a little bit strange.
I was standing in the same upstairs hallway where I'd begged Brody on my knees to save the house. And he was in the same shower where he'd surprised me on that very same night.
At the memory, I crossed my arms and glared daggers at the bathroom door.
It was shut, and probably locked too. It's not like I'd tried the knob or anything, even if I was tempted.
It wasn't for lust, or even curiosity.
It was for justice.
What Brody needed was a taste of his own medicine.
I should barge in there and see how he liked it.
Unlike so many walls throughout the house, the walls surrounding the bathroom remained intact. Soon – probably tomorrow – the plaster would be stripped away, and new drywall would take its place.
No doubt, the old plaster would've been gone already, if not for the fact that it would render the bathroom unusable to anyone not wanting to put on a show while conducting their personal business.
Privacy – we all needed it, right?
But Brody hadn't cared about my privacy. No. Not him. What he'd done was make a hole in the wall to spy on me. And then, he'd busted through the door like some sort of axe-wielding psycho.
Axe or no axe, he'd scared me half to death.
And had he ever apologized?
Not hardly.
The longer I thought about it, the more irritated I became.
Inside the bathroom, the shower was still running. I could hear it, even if I couldn’t see it. Still, I could imagine what it looked like in there – or rather, what he looked like in there.
If I were a betting person, I'd bet my last penny on the odds of him looking very fine. He'd be naked. And wet. And probably all sudsy, too.
At the mental image, I felt my body start to respond in ways tha
t were more than a little unsettling.
Damn it. I hadn't come here satisfy my ill-advised lust. I'd come here to chew his ass out.
And yet, the thought of Brody's ass – with or without bite marks – made me swallow in the quiet hallway.
I glanced toward the peephole – the one he'd made on that very first night. Someone – heaven knows who – had stuffed a wadded paper napkin into the hole, which meant that unless I was willing to yank it out, peeping on Brody was completely out of the question.
It didn't matter. I'd never do such a thing. It felt sneaky and weird. Plus, I'd look totally pathetic if I were caught in mid-peep.
Knowing Brody, he'd read it completely the wrong way. He wouldn't see it as me getting some justifiable revenge. No. Not Brody. As arrogant as he was, he'd probably assume that I was ogling his naked body, giving myself a good eyeful of the sudsy water sliding down his muscular torso before heading southward.
In my mind's eye, I could already see it, all those slippery suds, easing down his six-pack and heading toward the package below.
I recalled all of those rumors from back in high school. Apparently, he had a very nice package. And, he was extra good at delivering, if you know what I mean.
At the mere thought, I blew out a shaky breath. Oh, boy.
I was doing it again.
And for some reason, this was the final straw.
Forget peeping. Perving out would be pathetic and useless. The shower door was made of frosted glass. Even if I did peep, I'd only see his silhouette.
It would be a nice silhouette, for sure. But it was hardly worth the risk. And besides, I reminded myself, that's not what I'd come here for.
No. I'd come to give him a taste of his own medicine.
With sudden inspiration, I decided to do the same thing to him that he'd done to me. I was going to bust through that freaking door and scare the crap out of him.
Take that, jerk-face.
With mad determination, I glanced around, looking for some sort of assistance – a stray battering ram and maybe a small army to wield it.
Of course, I found neither of these things. No surprise there.
But I did have my own legs and a scary amount of determination – so I strode forward and gave the door a good hard kick, swat-team style.
At the impact, I stifled a yelp. Son-of-a-bitch.
The door held firm, and the bottom of my foot hurt like heck.
But hey, I reminded myself, Brody hadn't succeeded on his first try either. I mean, this wasn't like in the movies, that's for sure.
By now, I was breathing fast and hard – whether from raw nerves or the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
With a sound of defiance, I hauled back and kicked the door again, and again, until it finally flew inward. It hit the neighboring wall and bounced back, nearly whacking me in the face. I gave the door a final, irritated push – not hard enough to bounce it back, but firm enough to keep it out of my way.
And then, feeling like a total badass, I strode right in.
The bathroom was steam-free, and surprisingly cold. Inside the shower, the water was still running. My chest rose and fell as I eyed the silhouette inside.
Oh, yeah. It was definitely Brody.
I'd know his fine form anywhere. And even if I couldn't tell by looking, his voice was all too familiar – and annoyingly calm – as he said, "Yeah?"
I shook my head. Yeah?
Well, that was disappointing.
I made a sound of annoyance. "Yeah, what?"
"What do you want?"
Well, for starters some sort of reaction would be nice. It's not like I'd expected him to scream in terror or anything. This was Brody Blastoviak, after all.
Still, I'd expected something. Anger. Surprise. Maybe even embarrassment.
But I got nothing, and his calm demeanor was a real kick in the pants.
Even his question was irritating. What did I want?
As I eyed his naked silhouette, I could think of multiple answers, but none that I'd ever act on.
The bathroom's towel rack was long gone, which meant that Brody's pelvis – unlike mine a couple of weeks ago – wasn't obscured from view.
Even through the frosted glass, I saw way more than I'd ever anticipated. His body wasn't sudsy, but it was definitely wet.
My gaze drifted to his pelvis, and my breath caught. The cold temperature hadn't impacted him at all, if you know what I mean.
At the sight of his glorious form, I felt heat rise to my face and then, even worse, drift downward to settle somewhere in the middle – and I didn't mean my stomach.
As far as his question, I knew exactly what I wanted, and it was the dumbest thing in the world.
I wanted him.
But I wasn't dumb. Or at least, I tried not to be.
Shaking off the distraction, I boldly announced, "I came for revenge, that's what."
At this, he laughed. It wasn't a big laugh, but it was annoying.
Damn it. I was supposed to be throwing him off his game, not the other way around.
I demanded, "And how'd you know it was me?"
"Aside from seeing you through the glass?"
Not too long ago, I'd been in Brody's position – naked in the shower after someone had barged in. During that whole embarrassing fiasco, I hadn't recognized him at all. Then again, my shower had been a lot steamier, and Brody hadn't been on my radar in the least.
And that wasn't the only difference between the two scenarios. From what I could gather, Brody hadn't panicked one single bit, even as I'd been kicking like a madwoman at the door.
This could only mean one thing. "Wait a minute. You knew it was me before I busted in."
Sounding annoyingly amused, he asked, "What makes you say that?"
"Because you stayed in the shower."
"No kidding," he said. "I wasn't done."
Well, goodie for him.
"So, tell me," I persisted. "How'd you know it was me?"
"Easy," he said. "You're the only one crazy enough to do that."
I felt my jaw clench. So I was crazy? Not him?
Talk about nerve.
"Hey!" I said. "You did it to me first."
"So?"
"So maybe you deserved a taste of your own medicine."
"Yeah? How's that workin' out?"
For me? Actually, the whole thing was horribly unsatisfying. I hadn't gotten the reaction I'd wanted, and I was hugely – pun intended – distracted by his naked silhouette.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say that his body was happy to see me – and not just a little.
Again, pun intended.
Even worse, his body wasn't the only happy thing in the room. Logically and emotionally, I felt like throttling him. But my own body? Well, let's say it had other ideas.
The traitorous hussy.
Obviously, both of our bodies were idiots – unless he always walked around with a massive erection. And I do mean massive.
And yet, here he was, carrying on a normal conversation like nothing was out of the ordinary.
As for myself, I felt beyond foolish. I might've skulked away then and there if only I hadn't recalled just in time what had driven me here in the first place. It was that conversation back at the crew house. He'd been completely awful.
If that jerk thought I was letting him off the hook, he was even crazier than I was.
I told him, "You know you were a jerk, right?"
He was silent for a long moment before saying, "No."
I bristled. "Oh yeah? Well—"
"I wasn't a jerk. I was an asshole." He paused. "And I'm sorry."
"Oh." And now I didn't know what to say. "Seriously?"
"Hell yeah."
"Oh." Yes, I was repeating myself, but none of this was going remotely how I'd planned. The whole thing was like opposite day.
Judging from the steam – or lack thereof – his shower wasn't hot. It was cold.
He wasn't embarrassed. But I wa
s.
And of course, he didn't seem the least bit afraid. But me? I was stupidly terrified.
And why? It was because now that I was here, I didn't want to leave. I wanted to move closer – a lot closer.
How messed up was that?
I asked, "What happened? Did you run out of hot water?"
"No."
I tried to think. "So…you always take cold showers?"
"I do, now," he said.
"Since when?"
"Maybe a week ago."
"Why?"
"Because my roommate's crazy."
I stiffened. I wasn't even sure who he meant. Yes, I realized that he probably meant me. But Waverly was twice as crazy as I was. And she was also his roommate, right?
I told him, "I hope you mean Waverly."
"Sorry, guess again."
Great. So he did mean me? I should've known. "Gee, thanks," I said. "And what does that have to do with showering, anyway?"
"I'll tell you what," he said. "Crazy or not, I can't stop thinking about her."
At this, I swallowed so hard, it felt more like a gulp.
Woah.
I hadn't seen that coming.
Chapter 42
Brody
I hadn't planned to tell her that. But I didn't regret it either.
My crazy roommate – and yes, I did mean Arden – had been on my mind too much over the last week. Yeah, we talked a lot about the house. And yeah, we had our share of disagreements. But it wasn't the house that warmed my blood and sent my thoughts into overdrive.
As far as the shower, it was cold for a reason. And that reason was standing just inside the bathroom doorway.
Through the frosted glass, I couldn't make out her face, but I could tell plenty by the set of her shoulders and the tilt of her chin.
She was thinking again.
I liked that about her.
And she had a way of surprising me, too. I couldn't imagine any other girl busting through the door to – in Arden's own words – give me a taste of my own medicine.
My blood was pulsing harder now. I wanted a taste alright, but not of anything medicinal.
From outside the shower, she gave a shaky laugh. "Do you want to hear something really crazy?"
"What?"
"Before I came over here, Waverly told me…" Arden cleared her throat. "…that I should, um, in her words – not mine – 'hate-fuck' you."
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