“Yeah. From what I remember, you were really pissy when PMSing, and emotional. Every single commercial would make you cry,” he answers, shifting uncomfortably on the couch, not looking at me.
The look of disbelief stays on my face but for an entirely new reason. This guy remembers the havoc my periodcauses even though he hasn’t talked to me in seven years? What. The. Hell.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask again, blinking hard.
“Is making me repeat myself a new game here? You heard me, Sloane,” he says, letting all of his lovely personality traits shine through, making me roll my eyes again. I swear my eyeballs are gonna get stuck at one point with all the eye-rolling I’ve been doing in the past week, since he’s moved in. The thought alone makes me roll my eyes again.
A few minutes go by before I say, “I’m not PMSing. And I’m not pissy either. I’m just intrigued by the fact that you know you’re being unreasonable, yet don’t apologize for being that way, or even try to do better.” I turn my attention to my emotional support Kindle. “And you know damn well it’s not polite to ask a woman if she’s PMSing.”
“A. You’re not a woman, and B. You knew my personality before you agreed to let me live here, so deal.”
I’m not a woman?I. Am. Not. A. Woman.Are you fucking kidding me? I swear to all that it is holy this man will make me need a lawyer. And a good one at that, in the near future. Theverynear future. I get that I’m his best friend’s little sister—a little sister that used to follow him around all the time. And one who might have had a huge crush on him as a teenager, but come on. Not a woman? Even Ronan acknowledges that I’m a full-grown adult. I own the damn house he’s living in for crying out loud. If he could hear all the swearing going on in my head he would not be questioning if I was an adult woman or not.
“I can see you swearing up a storm in your head, trying to figure out what to say to me,” he says, cutting through my thoughts instantly.
Okay, first, he knows how I PMS, now he can read my mind with barely a look my way, all while casually drinking coffee out ofmycoffee mug, and sitting onmycouch?
What is this day?
Unable to stop myself, I pinch my leg under the blanket.Ouch, definitely not dreaming.
“You know I know you better than you think, Sloane. You were always around; I watched you grow up. Just because you’ve avoided me for the last seven years doesn’t mean I forgot about you, or that I don’t know what you’re thinking with a small glance.”
I can’t even look at him, too stunned to do anything but keep my eyes trained on my Kindle that’s lying on my lap. Even with the bad attitude he’s aimed at me since arriving here—the shit he’s said—those words start to uncover the feelings I thought I had buried, and my heart skips a beat.No. No. No.I am not getting back into the whirlwind that is being in love with Liam Jones.
“Now, you know me enough to know that I didn’t say you weren’t a woman in a bad way. To me, you aren’t just any woman. You’re the woman I watched turnintoa woman. I saw you in diapers, learn to walk and ride a bike. I was there when you freaked out your older brother and me, thinking you were dying when you got your first period.”
With that last comment I feel my face turn tomato red. I tried really, really hard to forget that particular memory,but with that one sentence I’m back to being twelve years old.
My dad was working a night shift so Ro and Liam were babysitting me. They let me stay up late, eating popcorn and drinking way too much soda, which is why I eventually had to go to the bathroom. When I pulled down my pants, I couldn’t stop the toe-curling scream that left my mouth. I didn’t even get the chance to realize what happened before the door was pushed open and both boys were there with one hand over their eyes and one holding the remote control, the other a pillow as weapons.
“Oh, God. Do you know how hard I’ve tried to forget that one particular memory?” I whine, throwing my head back against the back of the couch, focusing all my attention on my white ceiling. Any heart skipping stopped at the notion that he was there for my first period.
He lets out a small laugh at my horror before continuing. “All I’m saying is I know you’re a woman. But to me, you’re not just any woman, okay? So don’t get snappy with me. You know I’m a grump, and I know I’m even worse since the injury. But that’s why you love me, right?” he finishes, nudging my leg with the side of his arm.
The skipping starts all over again, stronger and more pronounced than it’s been in the last few years—whenever his name was mentioned, or whenever I saw something that made me think of him.
I am so screwed.
The entire day was weird. Too weird. He was too nice. Too attentive. Too curious about my life. It was unnerving.
I didn’t think I’d ever be happy to leave the house on a Sunday, but I’m almost crying out of joy that Jade and I had to reschedule our weekly Wednesday pasta night to tonight since she had a mandatory seminar this past Wednesday.
“What are you having this time?” Jade asks, keeping her eyes on the menu.
We both love pasta, but always order the same thing every time we go out. After learning we both had this habit, we decided we weren’t allowed to order the same thing twice. Hence, weekly pasta nights. Every Wednesday we meet atPastasat 3 p.m., sharp, sit in the same corner booth, and look at the menu for a good thirty minutes in silence.
“I’m feeling something creamy, so probably the goat cheese ravioli in a ricotta alfredo sauce,” I tell her, closing my menu. “How about you?”
“Oh that does sound good, but I’m feeling spaghetti. I haven’t ordered the traditional spaghetti yet, have I?” she asks.
“I don’t think so, no.”
“Perfect!” she says, closing her menu with a flourish before laying her hand on mine. Looking her way, I’m met with a look I’ve never seen on her face before.
“So, Liam?” she asks.
“What about Liam?” I ask, confused. Liam is not a topic I speak about with others. Other than telling her about his dreams, and me sneaking into his bed last night like she suggested, Liam is not a topic I discuss, and not one I necessarily want to start discussing. Living with him is bad enough.
