Dean's lip curled back in a snarl and I could see he wanted to lunge. Not off to a great start.
“That’s enough, both of you,” I snapped. “You, get ahold of your temper,” I told Dean, before turning to Alistair. “And you, stop antagonizing him.”
Alistair glanced away, something awfully close to shame but not quite regret on his face. “Fair enough.”
Instead of responding, Dean wasted no time stomping into the bedroom he and Alistair would be sharing. I watched him dump his bags on the bed on the left and sit beside them, burying his face in his hands with a groan and mumbling something incoherent. When he finally looked up, his expression was a somber one. Not angry, not cocky, just somber.
Like I’d exiled him to a desert island.
“I’ll behave, but only in this block,” he said, and I got the feeling he was only saying that so I’d be happy with him. He would’ve probably hated knowing I was comparing him to a dog, but he really was like a big, stubborn mutt who--deep, deep down--just wanted to please me.
Reasonably satisfied, I decided that was as good as it was going to get and went to check out the kitchen. There were already groceries in the refrigerator and cabinets, and everything else seemed well stocked. I was getting hungry, but all I really wanted to do was take a shower and it looked like there was only one of those.
I went back to my room for a towel and looked over at the others. “Anyone need in here first?”
Alistair looked out from the other side of his and Dean's room. “I’m all set.”
A mischievous grin spread across Dean's previously miserable face. “We could take one together and save water.” He immediately gave Alistair a hard look. “And I don’t mean the three of us, before you get any ideas,” he said quickly. Way too quickly.
Alistair just grimaced and turned back to his unpacking with a barely audible mutter of, “Insufferable pig.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass,” I said flatly, shutting the door hard.
Chapter 10
Alistair
“Smooth,”I said dryly, looking over at the idiot across the room.
He flipped me off and dropped back on his bed. “Just keep your shit over there and I’ll keep mine over here.”
“Brilliant idea,” I quipped, unpacking the last of my uniforms.
Despite what he seemed to think, I wasn’t the only one having a hard time keeping his mind out of the gutter, but at least I had the decency to keep my mouth shut. I couldn’t help but be relieved that Bells seemed immune to his “charm.” By some unfathomable happenstance, there were plenty of women who weren’t.
I realized Dean was watching me when I felt his eyes boring holes in the back of my head. I glanced back at him, tempted to ignore him, but at the same time, I wanted to know why he felt the need to stare at me.
Not that I wasn’t used to being stared at.
“What?” I finally asked. “What do you want now?”
“Nothing,” he replied casually, a smirk tugging at his lips.
I narrowed my eye, turning to face him. Just because I’d promised Bells I wouldn’t start shit didn’t mean I was going to let him screw with me and get away with it. “If you have something to say, just come out and say it. The one good thing about you mutts is that you rarely mince words.”
“I was just wondering if it’s true,” he said cryptically.
“Ifwhatis true?” I snapped. He really was capable of getting under my skin like no one else, and that said something. If there was one thing I’d always taken pride in, it was keeping a calm head. Unfortunately, he had to bring out the worst in me in front of the one person whose opinion actually mattered to me.
“If it’s true that every vampire is born with a stick up their ass.”
My mouth set into a solid line as I tried to bite back my immediate response. That would just be giving him what he wanted. “You aresojuvenile,” I muttered, walking out into the kitchen. While Bells was in the shower, I figured I might as well make something for dinner. I didn’t need to eat, but she was human or close enough that she’d probably be hungry by now, and it seemed like a decent show of goodwill.
Of course, Dean followed me, stopping to lean on the counter. He took up enough space that I had to go around him to get to the fridge. I half expected him to stick his foot out to trip me, but he didn’t, despite the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
“What’re you making?” he asked curiously. It seemed hoping for something other than cafeteria meat had softened his bad attitude somewhat. Typical dog.
“Whatever I can put together from this pitiful selection,” I said, studying the contents of the refrigerator. There was about a week’s worth of food inside, but nothing you could call gourmet. I took out enough ingredients to make pasta.
