Saving Ever After (Ever After #4) (10 page)

“When we’re done eating,
you’re going down,” I told her.

“Like I said, bring it.”

She was a competitive
little shit, but so was I. I didn’t even let her make it through her second
slice of pizza before I was telling her to put it down and pick up her
controller. I was determined to redeem myself.

She just chuckled, took
another bite and then set her plate on the coffee table and confidently
snatched the controller back up.

There was a reason she
was so confident.

It didn’t matter what
game I put in, she kicked my ass. Just when I’d think I had the upper hand,
she’d come out of nowhere and blow my damn mind, and usually my head off. For
every match or round I won, she won three, and I think sometimes she was
actually taking it easy on me to spare my ego.

“How the hell did you
just do that?” I asked her at one point when she seemed to transport from one
part of the game to another.

She grinned and chewed
her lips like she had a secret she was debating letting me in on. “There’s a
glitch in the game, kind of like secret section or another dimension right on
top of the game. It basically allows you to ghost through parts of the game
before it spits you back out. That’s why you didn’t see me coming.”

“Shit, how did you figure
that out?” I asked. I’d been playing this game for months now since it came out
and hadn’t discovered it.

She just grinned and
shrugged. “I just stumbled across it.” I doubted that. It had to be hard to
find if not everyone knew about it. “You ready to give up and admit defeat?”
She asked.

“Not happening,” I said.

Eventually I got so
tired of her kicking my ass at every game we played, that I switched it over so
that we were on the same team. A couple hours must have passed of us just
sitting there in front of the Tv, and not once did she complain about my
competitiveness, or ask if we could turn it off. Her own competitive streak
matched mine, and she was funny as hell when she really got into the game. Some
of the comments she made had me busting up laughing. It felt more like I was
playing with Ace or Spade than an eighteen year old girl. I never would have
expected that gaming fell into her interests between shopping and partying.

“Damn, you can’t tell
Jaxyn I said this, but you’re my new favorite girl to game with,” I admitted
when I was finally ready to call it quits. She was lethal, and she made our
team unstoppable.

She smiled and looked
over at me, “Jax plays?”

“Not really. She tries,
but mostly we use her as a distraction,” I laughed and Mia looked confused, but
I didn’t bother explaining. I just shut down the console and flipped it back to
regular TV. She snatched the remote from me and started scrolling through the
guide, landing on an old episode of The Walking Dead. Again she surprised me,
and my expression must have showed it.

“What? I like Daryl,”
she said.

“Let me guess, you cried
like a baby when they killed Beth?”

“No . . . okay, maybe a
little, but that was so sad.”

I just laughed, “That’s
the show.”

“Yeah, it’s really damn
depressing, but I just can’t quit watching.”

“Me too, although, Katrina
doesn’t like it, so I usually make sure I’m here on Sunday nights.”

“Zombies aren’t her
thing?” She asked, trying to come across more disinterested than she really
was. It was the reminder I needed that Mia wasn’t one of the guys and Katrina
wasn’t a subject that I needed to get into with her.

“Not really,” was all I
said.

“Oh. She’s a
photographer, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“She must travel a lot.”

“She does. It’s one of
the reasons we’re so good together. She gets what it’s like, so she doesn’t get
on me about being gone so much. We’re together when we can be, but we both have
our careers and independence.”

“Oh.” She looked away
and I felt a little bad for rubbing my relationship with Katrina in her face. I
wasn’t even sure why I’d said half of that stuff about us being so good
together, except that I meant to discourage Mia if she was still harboring a
crush. Only now, when she wouldn’t look at me, I wished I wouldn’t have said
anything.

She didn’t ask any more
questions and her eyes remained fixed intently on the Tv. It bothered me. I
don’t know why, but ten minutes ago we’d been talking, joking and laughing. It
was easy and natural. I wanted that back. I wanted her to talk to me again, so
stupidly I said the first thing that popped into my head, flipping the questions
on her.

 “What about you and Mr.
Frat Boy?” Of all the things I could have said, that should not have been the
one to come out of my mouth, but admittedly it had been bugging me for a while.

Her pretty eyes found
mine again, but they were closed off. “The guy from the night you drove me
home?”

“That’s the one. He
seemed like a real special guy,” I said sarcastically and she looked away
again, ducking her head.

“His name is Leland, and
we’re . . . he’s . . . he’s just a friend.” There was something about the way
her voice trembled just slightly and her eyes remained on the floor that
convinced me I shouldn’t have brought him up. In fact, I knew I shouldn’t have,
for more reasons than just that it seemed to upset her.

“Look, Mia, it’s none of
my business. I shouldn’t –”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted
out, “about that night. I’m really sorry for how I behaved. I should have
apologized sooner and said thank you for the ride, but I was so embarrassed
that I acted like that.” She sounded truly contrite.

“It’s alright, Mia.
Don’t worry about it. We all have shit nights sometimes.” I’d been mad,
frustrated and worried after that incident, for a lot longer than I wanted to
admit. I don’t know why I let it affect me so much, but I’d still been upset
with her days later. I didn’t have it in me to be angry with her anymore. At
least, I couldn’t be mad at this Mia. There was a night and day difference
between the girl from that night and the one sitting beside me.

Out of nowhere, Mia
chuckled softly. I looked at her. “What?”

“It’s just that you
called Leland a frat boy, and you kind of look like one yourself.”

My eyebrows shot up and
I glared at her. “I do not look like that douchebag.”

“I didn’t say you look
like him, but you have to admit, your styled hair and that pretty boy thing
you’ve got going on. It’s kind of frat boyish.”

“Take it back,” I
demanded.

“Come on, it’s not
necessarily a bad thing,” she teased, biting her lip to hold back her laughter.

“I’m serious, Mia. Take
it back.” She just shook her head. “You’re going to regret that,” I warned her.

“What are you going to do?
Let me beat you at a bunch more video games.” There was her feisty side coming
out to play again.

“Low blow, Mia. You just
wait.”

I got my chance for
payback a few hours later, after she had passed out on the couch while we were
watching a movie. I slipped upstairs to the music room and took apart one of
the cymbals on my drum kit, and gave her one hell of a wake up. She jerked
awake with a yell and fell off the couch. I was laughing so hard that I
couldn’t even defend myself when she stood and started hitting me with one of
the throw pillows, telling me what a jerk I was. Then she stomped off toward
the guest room, slamming the door behind her. I was still chuckling when I
closed myself in my own room.

I should have known she
wouldn’t just let it go. It wasn’t in her, just like it wasn’t in me, to take
it without dishing it back out. I don’t know what it was that woke me. I didn’t
hear her open my door, or feel her pull the blankets away from my feet, but
when I woke, she was knelt down at the foot of my bed. It took a second for my
eyes to adjust to the dark, but there was just enough light spilling in through
the door that was now cracked open, that I could make out the small bottle in
her hand, and I detected the faint smell of something chemical.

“Tell me that is not
nail polish, Mia,” I growled. She stood, twisting the top back onto the bottle,
and slowly backed out of my room with a wicked grin on her face. “You better
fucking run and hide, Mia.”

She turned and darted
back into her room, swiftly closing the door behind her and no doubt locking
it. I should have fucking locked my own door. I grabbed my cell phone off of my
night stand, turning it on and using the backlight to look down at my feet.
Sure enough eight of my damn toe nails were painted and obnoxiously bright
shade of pink.

Mother fucker.

That girl was going to
pay.

I closed my eyes, a
smile tugging at my lips. I wasn’t quite as annoyed as I should be, and I was
definitely looking forward to getting her back.

Mia

Come on
Mia, just go out there. What’s the worst he could do?

My internal
pep talk wasn’t doing much good as I nervously hid out in my room. I knew Chris
was out there somewhere and that he was out for revenge. After barricading
myself behind the locked door last night, it had taken me almost an hour to
fall asleep. I’d lain there just listening for any noise outside the room to
indicate that he might be trying to pick the lock and sneak in. Then this
morning, I’d been afraid to get in the shower in the en suite, sure that it
would give him the perfect opportunity to mess with me.

Now I was
showered, dressed, and sitting on the bed, staring at the door, trying to work
up the courage to go out there and face him. There was no way he would let me
get away with painting his toe nails. I knew it, but I also knew I couldn’t
stay locked in here the whole day, if for no other reason than it would give
him more time to plot.

What had I
started?

I took a
deep breath, steeling myself like I was going into battle, and then got up,
marched over to the door and bravely yanked it open before I could chicken out.
I braced myself for him to jump out, or something rigged up to fall on my head.
In my mind I was imaging multiple scenarios straight out of Home Alone.

I stepped
out into the hall and looked around. I didn’t see anything. No sign of booby
traps or any place he might be lying in wait. That almost made me more nervous.
I didn’t know what to expect. It certainly wasn’t to find him sprawled out on
the couch watching Sports Center.

He must have
sensed my presence behind him, because without even looking over the back of
the couch, he tossed out, “Good morning, Mia,” like it really was a good
morning.

“Uh, good
morning,” I said suspiciously.

“I made blueberry
pancakes earlier. There are still some in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” His
eyes hadn’t left the Tv once.

“What’d you
poison them with?” I asked seriously.

He just
chuckled and then his head turned, his eyes finally meeting mine. “I didn’t put
anything in them that the directions didn’t call for. I promise they’re
completely safe. I ate six of them.” He nodded his head at the plate on the
coffee table, sticky pools of syrup were all that remained of his breakfast.

“Uh huh,” I
muttered, not entirely convinced, but walked over to the kitchen anyway. There
was a big round plate with four pancakes stacked on it. I picked one up and
sniffed it. It looked and smelled like a normal blueberry pancake. They
actually smelled pretty damn delicious and I was starving. I grabbed a plate
and piled a couple of the fluffy pancakes on it, then looked for the butter and
syrup. They were both sitting out on the counter, and, like the pancakes, they
both passed the sniff test. Still, when I went to take my first bite, I was
cautious, prepared to spit it out at the first indication that something was
off about them. However, they tasted just as delicious as they smelled. I
pulled out a stool on the backside of the breakfast bar and sat, devouring the
syrupy, blueberry deliciousness on my plate.

I went to
the fridge for something to drink, pulling out the carton of apple juice,
bringing it to my nose for a whiff before pouring myself a glass and downing
it. So Chris’ plan wasn’t to poison me. I tried to think of what else he could
be up to as I took my plate and glass over to the sink to rinse them before
loading them in the dishwasher. I turned on the faucet and immediately let out
a surprised screech as the handle fell off and a barrage of cold water sprayed
me in the chest and face.

“CHRIS!” I
yelled. It took me second to figure out that he’d wrapped a rubber band around
the spray head on the pull out hose beside the faucet, after loosening the main
handle so that as soon as I turned the water on, I had no way to shut it off.

The water continued
to blast my upper body as I worked to get the rubber band off. It was wrapped
too tightly and my hands were wet so it remained in place and I moved on to
trying to get handle reattached to the faucet so that I could turn the water
off. It took a good minute before I accomplished that. As soon as I shut the
water off, I turned to yell at Chris and found him in the doorway laughing his
ass off. I just glared and then shoved past him to go retrieve a dry shirt, as
the one I had on was now soaked.

Stupid ass.

Okay, it was
pretty funny, but I wasn’t about to let him see that.

When I came
back out, he was on the couch again, engrossed in his stupid program. I plopped
down on the couch next to him. “Okay, you got me. We’re even now,” I said.

He looked
over at me with a pleased grin. “Oh, I got you alright, Mia, but you painted my
fucking toe nails pink. We’re nowhere near even yet, and just so you know. I’ve
played this game before. Jaxyn was a devious fucking brat and the master of
pranks, growing up. You will not win this.”

“Uhnn,” I
groaned and tipped my head to rest against the back of the couch.

“You started
it darlin’.”

The rest of
the morning was war.

There was
pepper mixed in the coffee grounds. Of course he’d only done that
after
he
made his cup.

I emptied
the cookie jar of his favorite chocolate chip cookies, crushed them (after
eating two) and filled the jar with the crumbs.

He didn’t
like that.

He covered
the toilet seat in Icy Hot.

And filled
the soap dispensers in the bathroom with oil and food coloring.

I moved his
laundry from the dryer back to the washer for another rinse cycle. I did it
twice.

When I took
Ivy outside to go to the bathroom and play fetch, he locked me out of the
house.

While I was
out there, I covered his pretty Porsche in dirt from the flower bed.

He really
didn’t like that. When he looked out the window and realized what I was doing,
he came barreling out and grabbed me by the waist, lifting me and throwing me
over his shoulder to carry me back inside. He grabbed for the door knob, only
to realize that in his rush to save his car, he hadn’t unlocked it, but had let
it close behind him. We were both locked out until I remembered that I’d left
the window cracked open in my bathroom to let the steam out when I showered.

Chris had to
give me a boost to get in, since it was pretty high off the ground. It was also
a tiny window that I barely fit in, and he put a little too much launch in his
boost, which sent me flying in and almost crashing down on the floor.

“Stupid
ass,” I grumbled. “See if I let you in now.”

“Oh, you’d
better go unlock that damn door or I’ll call and have your car towed away,
Mia.”

“You
wouldn’t.”

“I would.”
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and waggled it at me.

I
reluctantly let him in the house and begged for a truce.

“For now,”
was all he said.

For now?
What the hell did he
mean, for now?

After a
little while, he pulled me up out of my seat in the recliner, where I was
catching up on more of The Walking Dead, and started dragging me toward the
front door.

“What the
hell are you doing?” I asked him, trying to dig my feet into the carpet.

“You’re
going to help me wash my damn car.”

“Oh,” I
giggled and stopped fighting. “I guess I could do that.”

Of course
the car wash ended in an epic water battle, with him chasing me across the
lawn, hose in hand. That was after I’d thrown the bucket of soapy water on him,
but that was only in retaliation to him wringing out his wet sponge over my
head. We were both dripping and laughing so hard by the time we finally called
a truce and he turned off the hose. It was mid October, and even though it was
a nice day for October and the sun was out, it wasn’t exactly hot, especially
not when I was soaked and there was a light wind.

“Wait here,”
Chris said when we were both standing on the porch.

I started to
object that I wasn’t about to give him another chance to lock me out and leave
me standing here wet and cold all day, but he started stripping out of his
clothes, and I lost the ability to speak. His shirt came off first, and my eyes
were glued to his glistening chest. Hot damn, what a chest it was. Lean and
rippling with strong, but not bulging, muscles. He clearly made use of Ace’s
workout room. And his skin still held a nice golden tan, left over from the
summer. And the “V” that led right to Heaven. Okay, that probably wasn’t right.
It was probably the other place, but how was a girl to resist all that?

It was then
that I came to the conclusion that Chris wearing a shirt was a crime against
humanity, or at least the female half of humanity. And the gay half. In my head
I was forming a plan to fight this injustice. I was ready to march into his
room with a pair of scissors and shred every shirt he owned. Letters were going
to be written to the governor, or the president, or whoever I had to petition
to make it illegal for Chris to wear shirts. And if that didn’t work, I was
actually considering the practicality of carrying a bucket, or bottle or really
any large container that could hold water, with me every time I was in his
presence, so I could throw it on him and be treated to this sight.

My eyes
about bugged out of my head when he started unfastening his jeans and sliding
them down his legs. “What are you doing?” I choked out almost breathlessly,
while in my head I was screaming
“Take it off!”
like a horny bridesmaid
in a strip club, during a bachelorette party.

“I’m going
to go get us towels, but I don’t want to drip all over the floor and carpet,”
he explained as if it should have been obvious what he was doing, and maybe it
should have been, but my mind was struggling to put together any thought other
than how supremely and unfairly gorgeous he was. It almost hurt to look at him.
Okay it definitely hurt, because I knew looking was all I’d ever get the chance
to do, but oh man, did I ever look as those jeans slid down his hips and strong
thighs.

Oh hot damn.
That ass in those boxer briefs.

I should
probably have looked away. I should definitely have looked away, but I couldn’t
look away.

Then he
disappeared inside, leaving the door cracked enough to reassure me that he
wasn’t going to lock me outside. I leaned my back up against the house, sagging
against it and knocking my head back into the wood siding.

Pull your
shit together Mia.

It was
easier said than done. Being around Chris was . . . well it was a lot of things,
but mostly it just felt right, too right. He was fun and had a way of loosening
me up and distracting me from all of the things that had been weighing on me lately.
Being with him made me forget about all the reasons why he could never be mine.
He made me forget about everything except him and the damn fluttery feelings he
incited. That wasn’t good for me, because there were so many things I needed to
remember, like how he was eight years older than me and had a girlfriend. Not
to mention that he was famous rockstar who didn’t see me like that in the
slightest way. I was just. . .  I was . . . I didn’t even know what I was other
than an eighteen year old college student with too much shit going on in her
life because I didn’t seem to be able to get anything right.

My parents
were only part of why I’d chosen to hide out for the weekend. Avoiding Leland
was another part of it. Or I guess, avoiding him avoiding me. My texts had
remained unanswered all week. I don’t know what I’d expected, but I hadn’t
thought . . . well, I guess that was exactly the problem. I hadn’t thought. Now
I was too embarrassed and ashamed to face him, and even though I was still
pretty sure I didn’t want a relationship with him, it was humiliating that he’d
used me and now appeared to be done with me. Apparently, not only was I easy,
but I was an idiot too, or just awful in bed. Considering how drunk I was, it
was probably all three.

Before my thoughts
could spiral downward any further, Chris reappeared in dry clothes with a plush
towel in hand that he offered to me.

“Thanks,” I
said, taking it from him. I started to wrap it around my body, noticing the
softness in Chris’ eyes as he watched me. That softness, that bordered on
something else, banished everything else from my mind. My eyes remained locked
on his as I used the towel to absorb some of the water from my clothes and
hair. I stilled completely as his hand reached forward toward my face. My
entire body was frozen in anticipation of feeling his touch on my skin, but it
never came. Instead, he just brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, running his
fingers through a strand, pulling his hand back to reveal a small twig he must
have freed from my hair.

He grinned
and my lips split in a matching grin. It must have gotten in there when I
slipped in the grass as he chased me with the hose. I’d ended up flat on my
back, trying to cover my face and roll away from the spray of the hose that he
had directed down on me.