Page 19 of Cueball & Double-Z (Alpha’s Rejects #5)

I didn’t like Cole touching Cueball. Not one fucking bit.

Reining in my jealousy was like trying to stop a speeding train by asking nicely.

Cueball quickly picked up on it, but Cole hadn’t noticed yet that I could tell.

I really needed to stop wearing every fucking emotion on my sleeve.

If I weren’t so jealous of Cueball, I could learn a thing or two from him.

My Zilch.

He was mine. Or I wanted him to be. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t fair to be angry or jealous. Cole had no idea how I felt. And he wasn’t mine, no matter how much I wished for it.

This jealousy had only grown since we started staying with Cueball, watching Cole get closer and closer to the bigger man. I could see his interest growing in the way he looked up to him, his large blue eyes watching Cueball’s every move and reaction. I wanted him to look at me like that, dammit.

Shit, I could hardly blame Cole either. Cueball was a good-looking guy. More than good-looking. He was observant and smart, like Cole. They’d make a better match.

In the kitchen, neither of them could see me since they were facing the TV.

Yes, Cueball was more than a decent-looking guy.

I’d never really been attracted to other men except for Cole.

Did that mean I wasn’t pan? Was I bisexual?

I just assumed I was pan because it’d only been Cole.

I never looked at other guys like that until Cueball.

Well, I was too annoyed with him, but I couldn’t help but look at him, by like a lot.

As I leaned against the counter, sipping the coffee Cueball had brought for us, I started visualizing the three of us living together just as Cole wanted.

Not just living together, but being together.

I wasn’t sure why that popped into my head.

The jealousy I had over the bigger man was a lot, but my mind wandered anyway, showing that maybe I was more bi than I thought.

I closed my eyes and imagined Cueball dominating us.

He would, right? Dominate? He seemed the type.

Controlling, strong, his shit together, unlike me.

And for the first time, I envisioned Cueball gently pinching my chin, lifting my head to look into his pretty and unique eyes, then leaning down to kiss me with those full lips.

In my fantasy, Cole wasn’t jealous or upset.

He was excited about it. When Cueball pulled away, he would order me to kiss Cole like that.

To do what I never dared do before, like he was giving me permission to let go and claim Cole as mine.

When I felt my cock stir to life, my fantasy bubble popped.

Fuck .

That would never happen, and I didn’t know why it was in my head in the first place. It was just loneliness. It had to be. Yeah, that was it.

I grabbed my coffee and a croissant from the kitchen, gave Cueball a mumbled thanks, hating myself for my rudeness because he’d been thoughtful, but I just couldn’t help myself.

Then, I headed back into the bedroom. After taking a bite of the delicate and buttery pastry, I set my coffee down and started to pull dirty clothes from our suitcases, tossing them onto a pile on the floor .

I’d gotten a ton of quarters yesterday so that I could take the clothes to the laundromat. I hated doing laundry, but I needed to do something other than sit there with my conflicting thoughts and to get out of this apartment.

I lifted one of my T-shirts and took a whiff. Yep, needed to be washed. I tossed it onto the growing pile. It’d been a while since we’d done laundry.

Once I gathered all the clothes, I rubbed my neck, trying to figure out how to get them down there. I didn’t have a laundry basket. Shit. That meant I had to ask Cueball for help.

Taking a sip of my now-cold coffee, I headed out of the room. Cole was still leaning against Cueball, playing his game as the other man scrolled on his phone. Cueball’s brows were set low, and he frowned as if he’d read some bad news.

I rubbed my neck again and shuffled my feet. “So, uhm, do you got like a trash bag or somethin’? I need to do laundry.”

Cole waved and signed, ‘Need help?’

“I got it. Stay.”

He looked at me, tucking his growing hair behind his ear, debating if he should go.

“Really,” I said. “I’ve got it.”

Cueball stood, headed to the kitchen, squatted, and opened a cabinet under the sink. “How many do you need?”

“Two.”

He pulled out two large green trash bags, stood, and handed them to me.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, walking away.

“Wait,” Cueball said, stopping me. When I turned around, he slid a box sitting on the counter my way. “This is for you and Cole.”

I glanced down at it before looking back at him, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I took the box and opened it to find a smartphone.

My stomach dipped, filled with weird and conflicting emotions as questions like ‘ Why? ’ filtered through my mind.

But there was also relief, gratitude, and guilt.

Guilt for how I’d been acting the past few days.

“When you and Cole leave, I’d like you to have this. To keep you all safe in case of an emergency. I’ve got the service covered. You’re on a family plan I set up. ”

Family ?

My jaw clenched to keep the raw emotions at bay as I gently stroked the box. I couldn’t look at Cueball. My eyes would leak if I did. Instead, I kept my eyes cast downward and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s all set and ready for you to use.”

I clutched the box and walked back to the room with the bags in my other hand.

Once I got the bags filled with dirty clothes, I hefted one on each shoulder and headed to the front door. I dropped the bags and snagged my coat from the small closet, shrugging it on.

When I went to reach for the bags, I found Cueball standing next to me, holding one of them over his shoulder.

“I’ll help,” he said.

“I don’t need help.”

“Stop being so fucking stubborn. Jesus.”

I grunted a thanks, and then I looked past Cueball at Cole. “We’ll be back, okay?”

Cole smiled and waved before going back to his game.

I grabbed the other bag, opened the front door, and Cueball followed me out.

The laundromat wasn’t far, but still, carrying two heavy bags of clothes would’ve killed my already aching back.

The place was nearly empty, with only one other person using a couple of washers. I picked a table away from her and emptied my bag. I grabbed the one from Cueball and emptied that one, too. Then I began sorting the colors from the whites.

He stood next to me, about to reach for some clothes, before I grabbed his wrist. “I got it.” I sighed, and my shoulders sagged because I really needed to stop being such a dick. I mean, he bought Cole and me a fucking phone. “Thanks, but it’s weird having other people touch my clothes.”

“I get it,” he said, backing off and hefting himself up to sit on the edge of the large wooden table.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“You’ll need help carrying everything back. ”

I tossed two white T-shirts onto a pile of white boxer briefs. “Did you really want to help, or did you help so you could corner me and get me alone? I feel a lecture coming on.”

He chuckled and forked his fingers together onto his lap. “You’re as smart as Cole.”

“He’s way smarter.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

I shrugged and made a pile on the tiled floor for the jeans.

“You’re right,” he said with a sigh. “I have an ulterior motive for helping you carry the laundry, though I would’ve helped anyway.”

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, not wanting to talk about shit.

Not about Cole. Not about our situation.

And certainly not about my growing lack of self-worth.

I had no idea what he wanted to talk about, but I knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

He definitely wouldn’t be pinching my chin and kissing me.

I shoved that thought right out of my damn head. It was fucking stupid. I was being stupid.

His eyes were pinned on me as I sorted, making my skin itch. Those amber eyes of his were always intense and scrutinizing. When they said eyes were the windows to the soul, they weren’t fucking kidding.

“I’m not here to take your Zilch away,” he said finally.

There it was. No one had ever known about my feelings for Cole until now. Just more proof the dude could read damn minds. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t play stupid. I know you’re not.” I glanced at him as he ran a hand over his head, which was dark with stubble.

“What do you need from me to get you to open up? You clearly need someone to talk to. You’re so tight and bottled up, you’re going to explode sooner rather than later.

I get it. I understand the loneliness you must feel and the need to fix things that seem to be out of your control.

You care about him and will do anything for him, even if you can’t have him. ”

My bottom lip trembled and my eyes watered as I hefted a pile of dark clothes and shoved them into the washing machine.

I had to hide it from him. I couldn’t look at him.

Cueball had hit a nerve—a painful one. I glanced over at the person folding their towels, but the machines from the washers and dryers were loud enough to mask our conversation. “He’s my stepbrother.”

“So? You’re not blood-related.”

“He wouldn’t want me like that.”

“Yes, he would.”

I looked over at Cueball, jaw dropped. No way. How could he know that? “Cole’s interested in you , not me,” I countered.

“He is, but he’s interested in you, too, but he’s clueless about how you feel. It’s fascinating to watch someone so intuitive completely miss that mark.”

I swallowed, my mouth feeling suddenly dry as I dumped laundry detergent into the machine, popped quarters into the slot, and hit the button to run. Then I grabbed the light-colored clothes and did the same.