Page 18 of My Brutal Alpha

"Cooking," I said plainly.

He wore a vaguely concerned look, but the annoyance overshadowed it. "You shouldn't feel obligated to cook just because you're here."

Something about his hovering and strange need to act like I was going out of my way irritated me.

"Okay, but I was hungry and figured I'd just make us dinner. That sort of requires cooking."

Ezra scoffed. "But you don't have to. We could've ordered in or something."

My brows pinched together at him in disbelief. "It really doesn't matter. I don't mind cooking."

He rolled his eyes, not letting it go, and that only stoked my anger all over again. He was being ridiculous for no reason, and right when I was in a good mood, too.

I followed his movements as he continued through the kitchen. It was my turn to scoff. "What?"

"Nothing," he muttered, but it was just him being difficult. "Forget it."

While I was tempted to ignore him, it was hard to do so after seeing how easily he got annoyed over nothing at all. Instead, I leaned against the counter, my features tight with irritation. "I didn't realize it was a crime to cook in your kitchen. My bad."

Ezra glanced over at me, unimpressed. "Oh, come on, don't be obtuse."

I lifted my brows incredulously. "Me—obtuse? Says the one who just got pissed off because someone wanted to do something nice for you!"

"Exactly!" he snapped, turning to face me fully. "Which you didn't have to—I didn't ask you to."

I groaned, feeling like we were only going in circles. "This is so ridiculous. What is possibly wrong with me cooking?"

He ran a hand through his hair, looking aggravated. "The cooking isn't the problem...it's you feeling obligated to do this—to feed me even though you don't need to."

Still confused about why that was an issue, I huffed out a breath. "There is no obligation! Why the hell are you getting so worked up over this?"

But instead of giving me a proper answer, Ezra just grounded his teeth together and grumbled to himself. "Obviously, you don't get it."

I blinked back at him, stunned as to why we were even fighting at all. "Obviously not! You're being difficult for no reason."

"I am? Oh, of course, you'd think so. Because everything is my fault."

Something about that comment struck a chord in me, catching me off-guard. Not only was the statement true despite his sarcasm, but I could also sense the argument leaving silly territory and heading into a more serious one.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I bristled. "You're not wrong. Several things can be exclusively blamed on you."

Ezra's brows furrowed at that, growing angrier. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Blood boiling, I snapped back, "Do you really need me to say it?"

He seemed almost surprised by my words, and for a moment, I could've sworn he was considering what I said. But that brief thoughtfulness vanished, and his anger replaced it. "Watch your tone."

I rolled my eyes at that. "I'm sure you already know this, but you're in no position to tell me what to do. Not when you're the one who needs me for this stupid plan."

Ezra, visibly angry, took a step forward. "So what? Now you're going to hold this over my head, too?"

My face twisted with more irritation, quickly recalling how much pain he caused me from his decision-making alone. "And why wouldn't I? You deserve it."

"Why? Because I wanted to help you get away from Rory?"

"This is more for you than it is for me," I muttered, feeling myself growing more tense as the confrontation lingered. "You just used that as an excuse to rope me into this."

Ezra looked back at me for a moment, somewhat flustered, as he worked out his words. "You just don't want to admit that you needed help!"

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