“Doubt it. I don’t like small animals.”
“But Halley can feed the raccoons, and that’s okay?”
“That’s Halley’s business. I don’t sit there and hand feed them peanuts, do I?” I shuddered. “No, thank you. If it’s smaller than a kitten or a puppy and stays that small, I’m not interested in making friends with it.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Do you know anything about hedgehogs at all?”
“No. What part of ‘not interested’ are you failing to understand? Would you like me to Google you a definition?”
“I know exactly what it means,” he said dryly. “I just think you should use Google, but to research the hedgehogs.”
“Ethan, if I go on Google, I’m going to end up in a Wikipedia hole, and I’ll be an expert on the French Revolution by lunchtime tomorrow.” I finished my coffee and put the mug in the sink. “I will tolerate the hedgehog—I mean, hell, I’m already tolerating you—but I’m not going to be friends with it, okay?”
“It’s good to know the tolerance is mutual.” He smirked.
“Hilarious,” I muttered, picking up my laptop. “I’m going to check my emails. Make sure you turn off the television before you go to sleep.”
“Yes, Mom.”
I tucked the laptop under my arm and gave him the finger before I went into my room and kicked the door shut behind me. Not only did I have a roommate I disliked, but I also had a prickly one I disliked.
This wasn’t what I’d signed up for.
Then again, I wasn’t really sure what I’d signed up for at all.
***
I rubbed the towel over my wet hair as I walked into the kitchen. Sunlight streamed in through the windows in the living room, and a shuffling noise made me turn around.
The hedgehog was on my windowsill, and it was playing with my candles. Ethan was nowhere to be seen, which meant it’d barely been twelve hours, and he was already breaking his promise to not leave the hedgehog alone.
“Ethan!” I yelled.
Mr. Prickles jerked at my shout, turning his beady little eyes my way.
I stepped back into the stool at the island and almost tripped over my own feet. The stool screeched against the floor, and I grabbed it to steady myself, then tucked it back under the counter.
“Ethan!” I shouted again when he didn’t appear.
Where the hell was he?
The front door opened, and I jerked around. “Ethan!”
He froze. “What?”
I pointed at the windowsill.
“Oh. I thought you were in the shower.” He stepped inside and shut the door. “Forgot my phone charger. The lead was in my truck.”
“Ethan!” My voice was almost shrill now.
“Yes, that is my name.” He walked right past me, undoing a knot in the charger cord.
He did not just walk right past me.
Oh, my God.
I pushed off the stool and stormed after him. “Ethan!”
“What?”
“The hedgehog!”
“Is not eating your face or is anywhere near you.”
“It’s messing up my candles.”
“It’s messing up your candles? Dear fucking God, Ava.” Shaking his head, he turned around to plug in his phone. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“No, I haven’t. There are three candles on my windowsill, exactly the same width apart, and that’s how I’d like them to stay.”
Ethan stood and met my eyes. “You are insane.”
“No, I’m particular. There’s a difference.” I folded my arms across my chest and shook my wet hair out of my eyes. “You left the hedgehog alone.”
“Wow. You really meant every second, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m not a man. I mean what I say.” I spun and stomped back into the kitchen where I retrieved my towel from where it’d fallen on the floor. “Ethan!”
“Jesus, it’s like living with my fucking mother.” He rubbed his face with his t-shirt, flashing a hint of lightly toned abs. “What now?”
“Your animal! It’s gone again!”
He looked up at the ceiling. His lips moved, and I could swear he counted to five before he dropped his chin and went over to the windowsill. After a minute of searching, he reached behind the curtain and pulled Mr. Prickles out.
“Let’s put you back in the cage before Maleficent over there curses you with your own spines,” he muttered, lifting the animal up toward his face. He snuggled it against his chest and took it into his room.
This wasn’t going to work. I didn’t have to be a genius to figure that out. I wasn’t sure what to do now, but it was clear that we couldn’t actually live together. It’d only been twenty-four hours since he’d hauled his shit into my apartment, and it’d already gone to the dogs.
Or the hogs, in this case.
I turned on the coffee machine and pulled a mug down from the cupboard. I was going to have to tell Ethan this couldn’t be a permanent arrangement. It really didn’t matter that I was on the verge of being broke and desperately needed a roommate—I couldn’t live with someone when it was going to make me miserable.
Yeah. I didn’t know you could be in love with someone and simultaneously hate them, either.
I guessed that was the fine line people always talked about…
Well, if you asked me, it was a stupid line.
A stupid line that someone had probably drawn in Sharpie just to piss everyone off.
“How do you work this thing?” Ethan stepped up beside me, his chest brushing against my shoulder.
I jerked away from him, my heart skipping inside my chest. “By using the buttons.”
He eyed me as I cradled my mug and moved to the other side of the kitchen. “I’m not gonna steal yours, Ava.”
“I didn’t say you were,” I muttered, gripping the handle a little tighter. Seriously. Any harder and I was going to snap it right off.
“Are you all right?” His look became questioning as he hit the right button on the machine to make it go. “You look like you want to strangle something.”
I did.
Him.
The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. Instead of telling him he had to move out already, I made some kind of weird squeaking noise I was sure I’d heard Halley’s raccoons make at some point.
Ethan’s eyebrows slowly raised.
I shook my head and quickly made my way through the apartment to my bedroom. The door slammed behind me after one kick, and I leaned back against it, making it thump against the frame even though it was already closed.
The hinges were loose.
A bit like my emotions today.
Of all the weeks Ethan could move in, it had to be the week I was on my period. Seriously. I wasn’t capable of making a rational decision about what I wanted for dinner, never mind anything else.
I’d had cookie dough ice cream last night. It wasn’t exactly a balanced deal.
There was every chance that my frustration about my unexpected prickly roommate was solely down to Mother Nature’s monthly ‘you’re not pregnant!’ postcard.
Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to figure that out for at least another three days.