Page 9 of Pick Me

“Yes. You. Multiple times a day, to be precise.”

She marched over to the fridge, yanked off the Carolina Catfish magnet, and slapped the paper underneath it.

“Perfect. There’s no way even a buffoon like you could miss that. This is the schedule we will live by for the next ten days. If it works, we might be lucky enough to never have to see each other.”

I stepped in behind her so close I half expected her to elbow me. When she didn’t, I leaned in a little more, breathing in her soft floral perfume. It was from the fancy bottle she left in the bathroom, and I had to admit, it smelled nice. It was probably the only nice thing about her.

“So, it looks like tonight is my night, then,” I said, rereading the list.

“See, aren’t I nice? Giving you the first night in?”

Was she a witch? Could she hear my thoughts? I shook the idea out of my head, reverting to my usual response with her—banter. “Nice is a strong word.”

“But applicable here.” She turned to face me, holding two fingers up. “Rule number two. If it’s your night, you get the apartment until ten thirty.”

“Ten thirty? A little early, isn’t it?”

“Not all of us are up all night playingRide the Stallionlike you, Baseball Cap.”

I barked out a laugh. “Ride the Stallion? Are you talking aboutRide or Die? One of the best carjacking games on the planet?”

She waved me off. “I don’t know. Do you really think I care about what you’re doing when you’re lounging on the couch? Honestly, you lie there so long I always wonder if you’ve pooped yourself.”

I smirked. “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you do a lot of thinking about me. Maybe it’syouwho wants to ride the stallion.”

“Ugh. Have you checked how tight that cap is? I’m worried it’s cutting off the circulation to your head.”

“Nope. It’s not.” I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my gray sweatpants, watching her reaction. Fake flirting and innuendos were the best way to get a reaction out of her. “But, you know, these pants are cutting off the circulation to my legs. Maybe I should remove them. What do you think, Pyro?”

Her breath hitched, and her eyes did exactly what I thought they would—rolled—and I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

Too easy.

She made it too easy to rile her up, and I had too much fun to want to stop.

Then, just as quickly, she scowled and spun on her heel. “Wait, where are you going, Pyro?” I asked, following her down the hall.

“To my bedroom. I’ve got to get ready to go out.”

She slammed the door in my face before I could question her. Yeah, she made this stupid schedule, but who the hell was she going to go out with tonight? I guess it didn’t matter. I had the place to myself, and that was what was important.

Chapter Three

Jackson

“Are you ready for this?” I asked through the microphone resting against my cheek as I waited for the popcorn to finish in the microwave. The smell of burning, buttered greatness filled the air, and I let out a sigh. What could be better than this?

The apartment to myself, all my favorite snacks, and a night ofRide or Diewith an audience of at least three thousand gamers waiting to watch.

“Ooh, Jackson. It almost sounds like you’re not going to get killed in the first ten minutes of our operation,” Liam, my gaming partner, said, unimpressed and unbothered, but that could be his accent. He was British, after all, and they had a weird sense of humor.

“Do you have your camera set up for the live?”

“Yes. Have you?”

“Nope. I’m playing in my living room tonight, so the viewers are only going to get your pretty face.”

“Good. Means we’ll get at least one thousand more subscribers then.”

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