Don’t start Mr. Likes-a-Red-Bottom.
Killian: He’s not the only one.
Jackson: Shut it before I get my belt.
Feisty Mouse:
Stop. That’s not fair. Especially when my boyfriend is away.
Feisty Mouse:
Viktor, just let us know you’re ok. That he didn’t hurt you.
Jackson:
??????
Feisty Mouse:
Sorry, Jackson. But I’m worried.
Killian:
He’s fine. But why is Jackson getting a shit ton of messages from Alexei. Do I really need to worry about Alexei skinning me alive?
Feisty Mouse:
Ignore my dumbass boyfriend.
Oh, Eli is dead. He invited them both to the chat. And they both accepted, even knowing the rule was only one of them could join.
Fucktards.
My ass got thoroughly wrecked but the rest of me is fine.
And one of you better be leaving. You know the rule.
I tap on the string of messages from my cousin, knowing automatically he’s like an angry bull right now.
Alexei:
You left him at the club alone. You’re dead.
Alexei:
Who the fuck lives at 106 Cherry Hill Lane?
Alexei:
I’m going to cut your dick off with a butter knife.
He goes on and on, but I don’t bother responding. I get it, he’s too far in case anything goes wrong. And he’s right. He entrusted me to keep Eli safe. But I’m not his bodyguard and I know my cousin set up a shit ton of cameras in Feisty Mouse’s dorm room.
Closing the app, I open the web browser and start searching for ideas on how to prove I’m worthy to Beckett: make breakfast, surprise picnic dates, blah, blah, and boring blah. But then I vaguely remember him yelling something about a mouse last night.
Now, getting rid of a little rodent fucker would definitely help make my assistant coach fall head over heels in love with me.
I start researching how to go about catching this pest. According to some top sites, the best places to start are at the bases of kitchen cabinets, voids in and behind large kitchen appliances, and voids near heat sources.
