Page 32 of My Brother's Bad Best Friend

The shitty part is, Lane is absolutely correct. It isn’t just Lizzie’s insanely attractive body that’s drawing me toward her, it’s the whole package. It’s the way she laughs, the way she gets pissed off, the way she has layers and layers of sediment built up inside of her, making her someone worth digging down deep into. She’s fucking interesting, and I want to get to know her.

When did I become such a pussy?

I finish up with the register and help Lane clean up behind the counter. It takes us maybe fifteen minutes to get the shop closed. She grabs her stuff, hanging her apron up in the back as I walk her to the door.

“Thanks for the help,” she says as she steps outside.

“No problem.” I lean up against the door, holding it open. “You’re here all day again tomorrow?”

She nods. “You just pay me so well, I can’t stay away.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“Asshole. Here.” I reach into my pocket and produce a little box, tossing it over to her.

She slides it open with a little grin. “Okay, well, the perks aren’t bad.” She slips a joint from the box and puts it between her lips.

“Don’t tell the others,” I warn. I have a strict policy of not letting my employees get free shit, especially no free weed. I frequently break that rule for Lane considering she’s my best employee and a friend.

“I’m not that dumb. I just enjoy the bonuses when I can get them.”

“And listen, be nice to Lizzie, okay? I think… I think she needs it.”

Lane nods a little. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” She goes to leave but hesitates. “Is she the reason you’re sleeping in the grow room, by the way?”

I flinch a little. “How’d you know?”

“People talk.” She raises an eyebrow. “I think you can probably go home if you want to.”

“Maybe.”

“Just keep your dick to yourself. For once.” She pulls a lighter from her pocket and sparks the joint, taking a long hit. She passes it over and I take it, breathing in gratefully before handing it back.

“Great advice,” I say, releasing the smoke from my lungs. “Next you’ll tell a shark not to be a dick.”

“Are sharks dicks?”

“Every single one of them,” I say seriously.

She laughs and turns away, waving her hand. “Later, Jonas. Be good.”

“Later.” I watch as she heads over to her car, gets in, and starts the engine. I step back inside the shop, locking the door behind me before walking deeper into the building. I unlock the grow room’s door and wander over to my couch, flopping down on my back, one foot up on the armrest at the other end, my head propped up on the other.

“Fuck,” I say softly, looking around. This is goddamn depressing, sleeping in this place, and plus, I forgot to bring clean clothes for tomorrow. I’ll have to make a trip back to the apartment no matter what. I can probably avoid seeing Lizzie, but what’s the point? She’s living with me now, and unless I want to stay on this couch in this depressing room for the rest of my life, I better get over it.

“Fuck,” I say again, groaning. I sit up, staring at the plants, row after row of silent, judging weed. “Y’all don’t know me,” I grumble at them.

I stand up, shaking my head. “Fuck it,” I grunt. I’m not hiding from my own damn apartment just because I’m afraid I can’t keep my dick to myself. I have self-control, damn it.

Well, not really, but I can try.

I grab my shit and head out.

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