ONE
Cody
THERE IS ONLY ONE THING I absolutely hate—packing.
Packing a suitcase is mildly annoying, but boxing up my entire life? Well, that’s another flavor of fucking torture.
It took me three days to vacate my room at Nico’s.
Threedays.
I had no idea how many of my things hid around his mansion. Turns out the seventeen boxes I filled clearing the bedroom I called mine for the past four years were only half of the shit I accumulated. The rest, scattered around the obscenely large house, filled another van.
Add furniture into the equation, and transporting everything from Nico’s to my condo took three trips last night. Good job I have six brothers unafraid of heavy lifting.
It’s also a godsend that Nico’s fiancée and my younger sister are exceptionally organized. They didn’t just help me pack but labeled the boxes so unpacking would be easier.
While I considered moving into the same condominium as my brother Conor and his girl—Vivienne—I couldn’t get on board with no ocean view.
I coughed up a bit more cash, trading hypothetical two-bedrooms in Conor’s building for a one-bedroom, third-floor with an unobscured view of the ocean. My place, like Conor’s, is brand new, brought to life by the construction company headed by my older brother, Logan.
It’s a simple but functional design—Logan’s go-to style. The kitchen is to the right, separated from the main entrance by a coat closet. Straight ahead is the combined dining and living area. The master bedroom, complete with spacious bathroom and walk-in closet, is to my left.
The panoramic living room windows look out onto the patio, framing my favorite sight in the whole wide world: the ocean. Nothing beats this when the sun’s edging over the horizon, painting the calm blue waves in dawn pinks and purples.
Not only did I get a hefty discount, but I also spent the last few months working on this place outside college hours. Every fixture, power socket, and cabinet was installed by yours truly, so if anything falls off the wall, I’ll know exactly who to blame.
I rake both hands through my hair, gathering it into a bun as I inspect the airy living area. I groan inwardly at the prospect of spending the entire day making this place livable—free of clutter, mess, and trip hazards.
My wristwatch tells me it’s half eight in the morning. I should be asleep still. Why the fuck am I up already?
Probably because my brain buzzes with the list of tasks I should get done today. Wasting precious daylight hours in bed isn’t an option this fine Friday morning.
Well, not the bed, technically. The couch. My bed hasn’t arrived yet.
Glancing at the three-high box-stacks by the crisp white walls, I let out a long, defeated breath. I should’ve accepted Vee, Mia, and Rose’s offer to help unpack this mayhem because I lied.
There are two things I hate, and right now, unpacking is a fate worse than packing.
Only the massive vivarium housing my pet albino python, Ghost, stands where it should be. It takes up the living area’s entire left wall, where a dining table would go had I bought one.
Instead of a traditional dining setup, I asked my architect brother to tweak the blueprints and incorporate a kitchen island with a breakfast bar into the design.
It’s not like I’ll host dinner parties here.
Pulling my phone out, I scroll toBforBug, then tap the screen twice—once to dial, once to activate the loudspeaker.
“Up already?” Mia sing-songs, her good mood almost infectious. “How was the first night in the new place?”
“Uncomfortable,” I admit, shooting a glare at the couch. “If the bed doesn’t show up today, I’m crashing in your guest bedroom.”
“I don’t want to sound rude, but I did suggest you stay with us.”
That’s her subtle way of sayingI told you so.
“Yeah, I know, Bug. You were right. Happy?”
“Not really. I miss you already. Have you changed your mind about letting me and Rose lend a helping hand?”
