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What the …“You didn’t even take a shower.”
She lets out an exaggerated yawn. “Oops! Silly me, I can’t believe I forgot to actually get in!”
My face screws up. “You forgot to get in?”
She shrugs innocently.
“And let me guess—you forgot my schedule too?”
“Whoops! Totally slipped my mind. I guess I was justsotired after losing all that sleep this weekend. You know, with all thewhores.”
“For fuck’s sake. That was Friday night and stop callingwomen whores!” I don’t often let my anger get the better of me, but now I’m struggling.
Ryan strolls past me and into her room, kicking the door shut behind her.
I turn to Connor, who’s devouring a banana and grinning. “Is she for real? Did that just happen?”
“You two kids better figure out how to get along. And hurry up. We’ve gotta go soon.”
Fuck. I duck into the bathroom and turn on the tap, waiting impatiently for the water to turn hot.
There’s none left.
9.Ryan
My hands tremble as I lean back against my door and listen to Ronan’s brief exchange with my brother and his even briefer shower. I’ve complained to Connor at least a dozen times about how small our hot water tank is. For once, I’m glad his cheap ass refused to upgrade.
I hatched this plan on Friday night while the asshole slept soundly after his sexcapades and have been fine-tuning it all weekend instead of giving my school assignments the attention they deserve. The good news is it was a suitable distraction from my heartbreak.
I’m not a spiteful person by nature. I thought I was going to pee my pants when he started counting to five, and when those smoldering eyes landed on me, I almost abandoned my nerve.
All in all, though, I think it went off rather well.
This will teach Ronan to be a little more considerate toward his roommate.
With my plan successfully executed, I get dressed for work.
10.Ronan
“You’re lying. It’simpossibleto get kicked out of Sin!” Dean, a leggy guy with a protruding Adam’s apple and glaring tan lines, exclaims around a mouthful of his sub sandwich, thin strands of lettuce spilling out of his mouth as he talks.
“And yet superstar here managed it, all by himself.” Connor’s heavy hand falls on my shoulder. “I can’t decide if it was the blow job or you fingering the cocktail waitress that pissed off the bouncers more.”
A raucous chorus of applause and laughter erupts in the staff area behind the Wolf Hotel—a plain fenced-off area of picnic tables and a few planters—as the guys react to Connor’s dramatic retelling of Friday night.
“And then what happened?” Lopez, a guy from customer service whose first name evades me, asks. He seems decent. The kind who lives at home and does everything his mother asks of him, including marry the good Catholic girl from down the street. She wouldn’t approve of him sitting with our degenerate lot.
“We left.” I ball up the wrapper of my own sandwich and chuck it into the trash can, then lean back on the park benchand revel in the warm sun. Unlike Connor, I’m not one to fuck around and talk about it.
“Yeah, but?—”
“Come on, now.” I nod toward a group of female employees sitting at the table next to us, pretending not to listen. They don’t need to hear a bunch of pigheaded crew guys talking about blow jobs and fingering.
“And then we swapped,” Connor goes on to say. “And damn, did that girl know how to suck a cock.”
“So, you basically had three chicks that night?” Lopez gazes at me with awe.
“In one form or another,” Connor answers for me, earning my warning look.