“So the special thing about them is that the crumb is peanut butter and the frosting is chocolate. When usually people have achocolatecrumb andpeanut butterfrosting. See? Special, right? But I can’t eat too many. Ballet and all that. And the other day my partner told me that I was getting too heavy for him to lift. Can you believe that?” I chewed on my lips. “Maybe I should go on my juice fast this weekend. I can easily –”
I stopped talking when the car suddenly came to a halt and in a flash, he climbed out of it. I climbed out after him and watched him stride over to Buttery Blossoms.
A minute later, he came out holding a familiar pink box.
“Your partner is a pussy,” he growled, thrusting it into my hands. “And juice fasts are fucking stupid.”
And like an idiot, I hugged that box to my chest, blinked up at him and whispered, “You know, you shouldn’t really curse this much, Roman.”
His jaw clenched at that and his eyes grew all hot for a second before ordering, “Just get in the car.”
And I did.
Yeah, I’ll tell them about that.
All my brothers would love it because they think my juice fasts are stupid too.
And maybe if I tell them all this, they won’t hate him so much.
Maybe Ledger won’t fight with him.
Like he does one day at practice.
I’m not sure what happened because I wasn’t there but when Reed shows up at the auditorium with a nasty split lip, I know.
That something happened between the two of them.
But the worst part is that he won’t take care of it.
He absolutelyrefusesto take care of it in the coming days. Every time I ask him to, he goes,it’s fine.
So one day I decide to take matters into my own hands and aftermypractice, as he’s helping me pack up, I lock the door of the storage closet like he did that first time.
It’s a bad idea, I think.
Because when he turns at the sound, glances at the door before glancing at me, the space shrinks and grows darker.
“Did you just lock the door?” he asks, his wolf eyes alert and pretty.
“Yes.”
He leans against the shelf, folding his arms across his chest. “What about your brother who’s waiting for you in the library?”
His hoodie’s off and so I try not to look at the tiny hills that his biceps make under his light-colored t-shirt. “Well, he can wait another ten minutes. I don’t care.”
A smirk appears on his lips, all split and still pretty. “Ten minutes, huh. Living on the edge, are we?”
I stand on the stepstool to get my hands on the first aid kit on the storage shelf by the door. “Yeah. He’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think ten minutes is enough.”
When I get it, I step down and turn to him. “Oh, it’s enough. Trust me.”
He hums, almost thoughtfully, still looking at my face. “I mean, sure. I could take care of you in ten minutes.”
“Take care of me?”
Licking his lips, he nods. “Yeah.Twice.”
