“You’re trying to kill me…” He sounds shocked.
Oh, no, I’m not trying, I think to myself.I’m just having some fun.Instead of saying that, however, I yawn again, putting my hand in front of my mouth for extra effect. “What doesn’t kill you,” I say, smiling at him once I’m done yawning, “disappoints me.”
This apartment issonot the place to be doing this with my bat. One more wrong swing, and I’m going to knock a picture off the wall or put a hole in it, but whatever I have to do to protect my dumbass roommate from this dude is what I’ll do.
One of the biggest reasons I’ve always detested Tony the Tool is because he reminds me of the jocks from high school. That’s when bully assholes peak, and somehow, this one still thinks he can do whatever he wants. Well, not on my watch, and not to my best fucking friend.
Tony tries to step to the side and look past me at Michelle asshe comes to stand in the doorway of the living room. “Chelle, you’re not going to let her kick me out, are you?” he pleads.
I shift in front of her again, glaring. “I’m five-foot-four inches of psycho, and I’ll break your kneecaps.” I wield the baseball bat a bit higher to punctuate that statement and give him the stink eye. “Try me, Tony.”
“I can’t leave without my clothes,” he snaps back.
A moment later, and after some shuffling behind me, Michelle’s arms appear over my shoulder. Without looking back at her, I take the clothes she holds up and toss them at him. He fumbles like the loser he is, and they fall to the floor at his feet.
Angry red spreads over his cheeks, and then Tony bends and snatches up a T-shirt. Tossing that over his head and grabbing his jeans, he pulls those on, too. “You’re making a big mistake, Chelle,” he snaps as he tugs on his pants and then quickly buckles them.
I narrow my eyes and step closer. Tony jerks away from me so fast, he smacks into the side of the narrow hallway again.Ah, power never felt so good.Watching me carefully, he hurriedly grabs up his wallet and the fallen set of keys that were with his clothes—keys he wouldn’t have, I suspect, if he’s really been kicked out by his roommates. The big, fat liar.
He turns to go, but I don’t trust the asshole. So, I keep my eyes trained on him until he’s at the front door. Michelle shuffles after me, a hand reaching out and latching on to the back of my silk shift. The second the door is opened, I don’t miss a beat. Dropping the bat, I shove Tony into the hall and slam the wooden panel behind him, flicking the series of locks with expert fingers.
“Bitch!” A hard thump of a fist hitting the other side follows that curse, but it doesn’t matter, because the dick is gone. He’s gone, and I pray that that was the last time I’ll ever have to see his dumb, ugly face.
Flipping around to face Michelle, I press my back into the front door, chest heaving. “Whoa,” I mutter. “What a way to wake up!”
She blinks at me, the two of us staring at each other for a long, quiet moment, and then, as a unit, we burst out laughing. Soft arms come around me, and I squeeze her back, still grinning like a crazy person.
“It’s over,” Michelle swears into my shoulder. “I’m not giving him any more chances.”
“Good.” I pull back and take her arms in my hands. “He’s a prick, and you’re so out of his league. Next guy you date, we’ll make sure he has an actual job and doesn’t just sponge off you.”
Michelle grimaces. “I don’t know if I even want to date another guy. I think I’m ready to become a lesbian.”
I shrug. “If that’s what you want, we’ll just make sure that she’s also got a job—no more bums.”
Michelle’s choppy blond hair, a messy array around her oval face, shifts as she nods. “No more bums.”
“Well, now that that’s settled…” I release her and clap my hands together.
“Yeah…” Brown eyes flecked with various lighter shades of the same color move over my form. “Where did you get that?” she asks, gesturing to the cream-colored shift I’m wearing.
I open my mouth, look down, and shut it. “That’s…” I start, not sure how much I should tell her—how muchcanI tellher without getting her into trouble? “… a long story,” I finish lamely.
Michelle wastes no time pulling me back into our combo living room and kitchen and points to the love seat beneath the one window our apartment boasts—aside from the even smaller one in my bedroom.
“Spill,” she orders the second my ass meets the cushion.
I scratch the side of my neck. “Well, the thing is… I don’t know if I can.”
Her brows arch and she stands back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m yourbestfriend,” she says, as if I’ve somehow forgotten that fact in the last twenty-four hours. “Aren’t I?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, of course you are, but—”
“No buts, bitch.” She shakes her head. “Either you spill, or I’m selling your collection of romance novels to a used bookstore.”
A gasp. “You wouldn’t!” My gaze darts to the hallway entrance and the way back to my bedroom where my precious babies lie in neat stacks along the wall of my closet and peeking out from beneath my bed.
“I won’t,” she hedges, “if you tell me what the fuck happened yesterday. You never texted me about how the venue was or the event. Did you get some good tips? And why are you wearingthat?” She points to the shift.
