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CHAPTER ONE

Rumor has it she’s a psycho.

Ainsley

C ontrary to what you might hear, I’m not crazy. I swear it.

“Are you out of your goddamned mind?”

It’s a rhetorical question.

“The fucking apartment is on fire, Ainsley!”

Tucker has always been the more dramatic one in our relationship, and if I weren’t so pissed off, I would bring it up, but there’s no point. He’s not my problem anymore.

“Fuck you!” I shout over the smoke detector, glaring at the cheating scumbag who was my boyfriend up until sixty seconds ago.

He’s only half right, by the way. The apartment isn’t on fire, the curtains in the living room are. It’s a small flame, but a flame big enough to set off the smoke detectors, which triggered the neighbors to pull the fire alarm.

At this point, though, you’re probably wondering why I’m screaming, ‘Fuck you!’ instead of grabbing some water and helping Tucker pull the curtain rod down. It’s simple. I hate Tucker and hope his dick catches fire.

And I hate the girl standing next to him. Taylor. My roommate and, currently, my boyfriend’s side piece. But that’s not even the fucked-up part. The real fucked-up part is the fact they decided to use my candles to create this ambiance of adultery .

I aim a glare at Taylor, who’s been quiet during this entire meltdown, but I’m guessing that’s because she’s naked, shivering in our living room as her hideous curtains go up in flames.

“I did Taylor a favor by burning those curtains,” I continue, undeterred by Tucker’s panic and the wailing of sirens in the distance.

“That’s what good roommates do! They rid you of the ugly things in your life. ”

I force out a devilish smile like Taylor did me a solid tonight by porking Tucker, showing me what a real piece of shit he is.

And in return, I paid her back by setting our apartment ablaze.

Okay, so ablaze sounds like I ripped the sofa cushions and lit a match.

That’s not what happened. I meant to hit Tucker with a lit candle and missed.

He deserved it, and so did she.

Even if Taylor and I weren’t the greatest of friends, we made being roommates work. I mean, sure, she’s a twat twenty-five days out of the month, but the rest of those six days, she’s kind of decent. But she had to go and ruin our fickle relationship.

Taylor glares back at me, not bothering to cover her flawless tits.

I used to think the rumors about her perfect tits were a drunken observation and not a real fact.

But now that I’m looking at them, I mean, really looking at them, they are pretty perfect.

The perfect handful guys fight over. Guys like my boyfriend, who’s also naked.

At least Tucker is covering his junk. Wait.

“Why are you covering yourself, Tucker? Your dick has to be more useful than fucking my roommate. Pee on the fire, why don’t you? Do at least one redeeming thing tonight.”

Tucker grits his teeth and snatches a throw from the floor where the love nest of soft blankets is rumpled from their fuckfest. “Get some water!”

I don’t move at his frustrated shout. He lost the right to tell me what to do the minute I walked through the door tonight.

“Ainsley! Put aside our issues for a moment. Innocent people are in the building.”

Our issues. Pfft. He makes it sound like we have a weekly appointment with a marriage counselor. Not like we were so in love that I followed his med-school bound ass to this college, giving up all of my dreams so he could chase his.

“Ainsley!”

Okay. Fine. He’s right. Even if I would like for his dick to sizzle, I don’t want anyone to die or be responsible for any lung complications just because he crushed my heart tonight.

I look at Taylor, the traitor standing next to me. Her eyes are laser-focused, searing me with hate. It takes all I have not to tackle her and snatch those thousand-dollar extensions from her hair. But that would show I give a crap about their betrayals.

And I do.

But no one needs to know the truth.

This whole fire thing is a throwing mishap. But if I took Taylor down to the ground in a tangle of bitch slaps. . .? That would seem like I completely lost my shit and care that my roommate has been banging my boyfriend for who knows how long.

The message I want to send is they can live happily ever after for all I care.

I have options, dammit.

I have respect.

At least for now, until I can get to somewhere private and wallow in my heartbreak.

I tear away from Taylor’s glare and rifle through the cabinet for a pitcher. I find one I bought when Taylor and I threw a spring break party last year. It has cute little watermelons on the side that reminds me of happier days.

I scoff.

Those days are over.

Taylor and I are over.

Tucker and I are over.

Hell, screw the whole complex. Havemeyer University can suck a big fat dick for all I care.

I snatch the pitcher from the cabinet, and to be petty, I slash at the plasticware alongside it, sending it all down to the floor.

Kicking the containers out of my way, I fill the pitcher with water before traipsing over to Tucker, who has pulled the curtains down and is attempting to smother the fire with the throw blanket he was probably fucking on.

My earlier fury bubbles to the surface, and I pull back and slosh the water over the curtains and Tucker, who is still naked.

“Dammit, Ainsley! Is your aim that bad tonight?”

My aim has always been poor. I’m not known for my throwing skills, but had I known twenty minutes ago I would be sent home early from my shift at Studs and Spuds, I would have practiced a little in the parking lot before I came in.

I was in a good mood, dammit!

Nothing felt better than knowing I had a few free hours to soak in the tub and play Who Wants to Be a Millionaire on my iPad.

But I had to come home and find Tucker ass up, humping my roommate in the middle of the coziest mound of blankets, surrounded by my candles.

It looked like I had walked into a ritual sacrifice: moans and jerky movements combined with Taylor speaking in tongues.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was witnessing until Taylor said, “Oh, God, Tucker. Harder.” That’s when all chaos broke loose.

I gasped.

Taylor screamed.

Tucker sprang from the floor with a noteworthy litheness.

I was the epitome of calm after that. I merely dropped my purse, grabbed one of the candles they were burning, and hurled it as hard as I could at Tucker. I was aiming for his balls, which I missed, but I think we can all agree I was upset and deserve a pass on that mistake.

The water, however, I purposely doused on his ass.

“Screw you, Tucker!”

Okay, so my vocabulary has not been vast in all of this.

But what can you say to the two people who you were supposed to trust?

They betrayed me, and—A loud knock breaks our heated stare.

I mouth, “I hate you,” at the bastard before going to the door and swinging it open.

The smoke detector is still going off, so I’m not at all surprised to see the three firefighters standing in the doorway.

“We received a call about a fire.”

I don’t even bother explaining. I simply step aside and allow the firemen to address the remaining few sparks that Tucker hasn’t been able to put out. I should have known he couldn’t finish off anything but himself—selfish asswipe.

The firemen push through the apartment and spray Taylor’s curtains with the fire extinguisher before turning off the alarm and filling the space around us with silence.

Well, it was silent for a minute. But rest assured, Frank, the landlord in all his terry-cloth glory, remedies that quickly. “What the hell happened in here?” He looks at Tucker—who has grabbed a blanket—before swinging his gaze to Taylor, who is now covered too.

How nice of them to finally show some decency.

“Taylor,” he barks. “What is going on here?”

Frank isn’t the easiest landlord to deal with, but I imagine when you own an apartment complex that mainly rents to college students, you don’t have the luxury of being a nice guy.

Taylor narrows her eyes at me. “She tried to kill us, Mr. Frank!” Tears fall from her smudged face. “She lost it and tried to burn us alive!”

Now she decides to be dramatic.

I roll my eyes and address Frank. “It was an accident. I knocked over a candle.”

Taylor wails, and Tucker wraps his arm around her, shushing her with a sweetness I’ve never seen from him.

Oh, hell no.

No, he didn’t. What about me, huh? I’m the victim here! I am the one who came home and found the love of my life ravaging my roommate.

Me! Not her.

I grab another candle and go to hurl it when a massive body steps in front of me and plucks it from my hand.

“Let me take that,” he says softly. The name on his uniform reads Bostic.

“Why don’t you step outside with me and get some fresh air, huh?

” His eyes are gentle. He’s probably a good dad—even better—a faithful husband.

I crane around Bostic’s massive shoulders and take one last look at what my life was. Tucker is holding Taylor’s sobbing body to him, smoothing his hands down her back.

Fucker.

Good riddance. Taylor can have him. I’m out.

I nod to Bostic and follow his lead through the door when Frank grabs my arm. “You’re done here, Ms. James. I don’t want you back on the property anymore. If I see you again, I’ll file a restraining order.”

Bostic makes a noise deep in his chest like he wants to say something but can’t. It doesn’t matter anyway. I wouldn’t stay here with Taylor if you promised me my very own pet sea lion. I nod. “Understood. But I’ll need to come back for my stuff.”

“Don’t bother,” shouts Taylor. “We’ll pack it up and leave it outside the door.”

The hell she will. Tomorrow, when everything settles down, I’ll talk to Frank and get my stuff. I have a class, and I’ll need my laptop.

Bostic pats a brawny hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”