“Oh fuck, that’s nice,” Elijah groans as he flops down onto the sofa beside me, stretching his long, lean limbs. He’s wearing one of the ridiculous crop tops Nakoa gifted him, this one white and sleeveless, with the words “Thigh Daddy” written across his chest and a rugby ball balanced on its side beside them.
“It’s sweet that you read them a bedtime story every night,” I tell him, flipping through channels until I find the one I’m looking for. I’d never admit this, but I sat here like a creep, listening through the ungodly thin walls of this flat as he read them a story about a rugby-playing fairy. I’m nearly certain he made it all up and missed his calling as a children’s book author. Not that you can’t start writing or take on a second career at anyage. Plenty of people do it every day, and I’m sure Elijah would be brilliant.
“It’s one of my favourite things. That must sound absurd, but when our father left, there were about a million things hitting us all at once, and Ellie was only one at the time. She wouldn’t stop crying, and the only thing that seemed to soothe her was when I’d read to them.” He sighs. “I spent hours every night reading for so long that I ran out of books and had to make up stories of my own. It became a way for me to connect with them while also acting as a creative outlet and simultaneously helping Ellie settle down.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. This is one of those moments I have difficulty connecting to, and while I can understand the sentiment the way he’s explained it, I don’t necessarily think it requires a response.
He saves me from my overthinking, giving me a shy smile and snatching the remote from me. “So, what are we watching tonight?” he asks, a moment before the doorbell rings and my whole night smashes to hell.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
I dragmy exhausted body towards the offender, pressing my eye to the peephole. I have to suppress a groan of anguish. A blonde with a smile so wide it almost looks plastic, and a brunette with a permanent scowl etched into her brow, hover in the doorway, just managing to block ninety per cent of their other brunette friend.
A ripple of unease slides through me, my stomach turning. Ihatelying to people, even by omission. I know something they don’t, and that’s close enough to a lie for me.That’s a secret, not a lie,the more disastrous recesses of my brain try to reason, but it’s futile. My mind is already made up about the morality of my current predicament.
I peer over my shoulder at Adhira, whose face clearly reads, “Well, who the hell is it?”
“It’s your friends!” I mouth back, flailing my arms around my head, making gestures thatIthink clearly convey who’s beyond our door, waiting to stomp all over our peaceful night in.
Her brows pinch as she leans in closer. “What?” she asks, her voice loud, as if she totally missed the memo that we’re supposed to be quiet. “I can’t read lips when you’re standing in the dark.”
I roll my eyes, releasing a huff of annoyance, and put up three fingers, point to the door behind me, then wave a hand down my body—surely enough to show there are three people in the hallway. Her brow quirks higher. I toss my head back like some woman in a shampoo commercial, hold up an invisible football, bounce it on my knees, then cup my hands at my chest and squeeze as if honking two horns.
Adhira stares at me, dumbfounded and unimpressed with my miming act. “Are you asking me to tweak your nipples? If so, I’ll have to pass.”
“We can hear you! Let us in!” one of her friends shouts from the other side of the door. I smack my forehead, scrubbing my hand down my face before surrendering to my fate, doing my best to recall each of their names from our brief interactions during our practices at the end of their football season.
“Howdy, Elijah,” Chelsea says, her bright-blonde hair streaked with purple and blue, swishing in a high ponytail like Lyla always begged me to give her, but I repeatedly messed up.
“Are you just going to stand there like a bodyguard, or do we get to come inside?” Elise asks, a sharp dark brow quirked as she tilts her head at me in a silent challenge.This woman is bloody terrifying.
I release a loud exhale, stepping to the side and holding the door wide for them to come in, not that my body blocking it would have deterred them. The flat now feels small and suffocating, packed with a torrent of big personalities, but it’snothing compared to living in my nan’s basement with my sisters.
Letty passes me, flopping down on the sofa beside Adhira, whose grumpy face leaves no room for misunderstanding.And only I know why.
My stomach roils, churning with the mixture of bile and lies so damning I can feel their weight pressing on me.
Letty swings an arm over the back of Adhira’s seat, leaning into her. “Clearly, Miss Pouty Face doesn’t want us here right now, but you’ve given us no choice. You can’t just move out and answer our messages with the bare minimum for two weeks and expect us not to show up at your door.”
“You know, in a civilised society, that would be exactly what I could do, but evidently, I’m living amongst a crew of unlawful outcasts.” Adhira rolls her eyes. “And the bare minimum for you happens to be the maximum for what I can presently handle. I’ve been busy.”
Letty makes a show of peering around the tiny living room, lifting the corners of Adhira’s blanket mountain before meeting her eyes again. “I’m sorry, busy doing what exactly? Your classes are during the day, and I’m fairly certain you haven’t been spending your nights at a clinic that’s only open till five. Is Elijah really keeping you that entertained?” she challenges, and my body flames with embarrassment.
Adhira’s lips quirk, and I justknowI’m not going to like whatever is about to come out of her pretty mouth, if the glint in her mischievous brown eyes is anything to go by. “As a matter of fact, he is.”
My eyes grow wide before I can school them, the four women swinging their gazes to meet mine. I scratch the back of my neck, swallowing around the lump in my throat. Whereas Adhira’s gaze challenges me to call her out, her friends look almost as shocked as I do. They each wipe their expressions clean in aflash, their faces morphing into disbelief so strong that italmostmakes me feel self-conscious.
Why would it be so hard to believe that Adhira would want me?I have a great ass, and I know the crop tops and short shorts aren’t for everyone, but they’re comfy. Maybe it’s the glasses?
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You expect us to believe this gentle giant is railing you? Or thatyou,of all people, evenwantthat?”
I stare at Chelsea in horror, my face twisted.
“No offence, but I can’t imagine you’ve got her locked up in your bed all day,” she deadpans, and my cock twitches in my shorts at the image.
“None taken,” is all I manage, my mouth growing dry.
