With a step around Beckett’s proffered hand, I say, “I didn’t,” before returning to my apartment without so much as a backward glance.
Just as my door’s closing, I hear an amused laugh as Beckett calls out, “Oh, this is gonna be fun, boys.”
Once in bed, I roll to my side, watching lights dance through the open windows then grimace as the music jumps back up to full volume.
Damn it.
The howls also start up with a gusto causing me to cover my ear with a pillow.
Too bad it can’t hide the smile splitting my face, too.
* * *
The next day I’m exiting my Jeep when I hear a car door slam behind me. Peeking over, I notice Beckett walking from a hunter green Tahoe with tinted ass windows and bigger than life rims. He’s wearing a holey tank that says Ride Hard Or Go Home with a grin stretched from ear to ear. He’s dirty and sweaty in what look like mechanic’s pants, but still just as adorable. His dirty blond hair is sticking out like a frenzied free for all like he just took his hat off and the strands don’t know how to behave.
Just like Beckett, I smirk to myself.
“Hey, neighbor girl.”
I flip my hand in greeting before gingerly tossing my backpack over a shoulder. The sun was brutal today even with the copious amount of sunscreen I slathered on my skin. Hot Spots gives t-shirts to all their employees but there’s just no way a shirt with sleeves will cut it when you’re using your arms all day in the scorching heat. Most of the employees take advantage of the laidback management by altering their uniform to reveal more skin. Tighter, shorter, you name it, they’ve done it. I only cut the sleeves along with the arm pits out of mine so I can work without getting a rash in the process. We all have our own personalities, theirs are just a little more revealing than mine.
A sleek black Camaro pulls into the space next to Beckett’s Tahoe. Marc emerges from the passenger seat the next instant with “Heathens” by one of my favorite bands following close on his heels before closing the door behind him and cutting the song short. His black tank, showing off his tattoo sleeves and chest, paired with dark green shorts are a little cleaner than Beckett’s but still show a hard day’s work with random stains. With a New York baseball hat perched gingerly atop his buzzed haircut and his caramel complexion, he looks like the kind of guy you’d let run over your foot as long as he’ll talk to you while you bleed out. Unfortunately, his pissed off expression suggests he’d let you.
The takeout bags in his hands mock my already growling stomach. I didn’t have time to grab a bite before work and the tiny lunch I had hours ago isn’t holding me over until I can tear into my frozen dinner awaiting me upstairs like I’d hoped.
Coty gets out of the driver’s side next making me hungry in an entirely different, but just as pertinent, way. The growling intensifies much to my horror. At least it’s just my stomach though. I mean, I think it is. Coty’s black tee sculpted to his torso like a damn second skin has made some deep-seated animalistic yearning spring to life, making it hard to focus on anything other than what my body wants. Now.
His eyes immediately fly to mine with a dimple on his left cheek suddenly announcing its delectable existence as he smirks wickedly.
My shoe catches on a stair and I send my hands out in front of me before I can fill up on concrete for dinner.
Shit.
I right myself as quickly as possible, then take the rest of the stairs two at a time. I thought these guys might be dangerous but I had no idea just how much.
CHAPTER 4
Angela
It’s finally early enough for me to get something done other than work and school and school and work—like laundry. I’ve been doing my own laundry for years, but now I have to use shared machines with the rest of the building so I’m at the mercy of other people’s schedules, another thing I didn’t anticipate moving in here, but luckily, after finding a washer open today after work, I chose to go for a swim in the pool at the back of the property while my other clothes were out of commission.
The cool water skims across my skin as I make my way from end to end. Even with it being nearly dark, it’s still ninety degrees out and stifling hot. My half a sandwich I brought down sits untouched at the table next to my things. My mom never taught me how to cook. Or sew. Or budget. Or prosper as a regular functioning adult. The latter I’m working on figuring out through trial and error alone. The rest will follow in time. Hopefully. Probably.
Although she didn’t technically teach me how to clean either, I picked up that useful habit by actually giving a shit about my few possessions. Take my old as dirt 1986 Jeep for example. It offered me the first taste of independence and for that reason alone I love it. Hence why I clean it more than most people with luxury cars would. My studio hasn’t so much as had a single dust mite before I readily wipe it away with enough force to scare all its friends back to whatever filth pit they hail from.
As I float around on my back, soaking up the last few rays for the day, voices drift down causing me to glance up at the balcony overlooking the pool area. The boys’ apartment is so big it has two balconies. One in the front, like mine, overseeing the less than glamorous yet still overstated parking lot, then this one with a full view of the pool and surrounding yard. Marc, Beckett, and Coty all step through their sliding glass door laughing together. I take the moment to watch them unguarded, unfiltered, as they joke lightheartedly with each other. I never would’ve guessed Marc knew how to smile yet there he is openly laughing at something Beckett is saying. I find myself smiling along with the group even though I can’t make out a single word of the tallest one’s animated story. Whatever he’s sharing has them all in stitches and my moves slow in effort to share in the casual moment, even if only as an outsider. Outsider being a role I’ve grown accustomed to, I take comfort in my place on the cusp, secure in the anonymity being disregarded provides. My entire life has been spent meandering within the unknown and unwanted. I don’t even know any other place to wander.
My smile drops however as soon as Coty’s gaze collides with mine. There’s something in his stare that threatens ruination. Damnation. It may start at the base of my spine but it could spread to the rest of me, the rest of everything, if I let it. Total domination by a pair of mocha swirl eyes.
I dip my head under the water effectively severing the connection, the influence that devil dressed as my neighbor has. A huge disruption has me surfacing well before I’m ready to, only to be met by a grinning Beckett. With his clothes still on. In the pool. I can’t help but laugh even as I back up, eyeing him while I make my way over to the edge. The easy way he has about him, it’s infectious.
I hop up onto the ledge, wringing my hair out as he treads closer, studying me carefully. When his arms make circles out to the sides, I’m reminded of this video we watched in health class once on water buffaloes. His shoulders taking up most of the shallow end have me wondering how I even managed to stay in the pool when he jumped in. Or how he got down here so fast. I peek over my shoulder, noticing his roommates are exactly where I saw them last. Coty’s eyes are glued to mine, not missing a second. Marc is taking in the scene with vague curiosity.
It’s been a few days since I crashed their party—more like they crashed my sleep—and they are…a lot to take in. Especially dressed like they are. Like they just got done causing trouble. Judging from the wide smile on Coty’s face, they’re ready for some more.