Page 43 of Flaunt
Anything besides this.
“What would I get out of it?” I say through clenched teeth.
“I’ll clean your house,” Sara offers.
I spin around. “No. See?” I point at her. “She’ll come in and touch my stuff. Rearrange it. Move it.”
“Oh, the irony,” Maddox deadpans.
I narrow my eyes. “This isn’t funny.” Spinning around to Sara again, I shake my head. “You’reme-ingme again. The world is only big enough for one me.”
“Stop being dramatic,” Sara says.
“Good luck with that,” Maddox says, sighing.
Sara puts her hands on her hips. Her perfect little pout presses together, and she looks at me in exasperation. “I don’t want this any more than you do.”
“We’ve been here before. It seems to be a recurring theme.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not a very nice way to talk to your landlord.”
She throws her hands in the air. “He’s right. This will never work. I’ll stay in a hotel.”
“Good,” I say as she storms off.
“Good,” she yells back.
Maddox and Ashley watch, bewildered, as I march to the door. I let it slam shut moments before the door upstairs closes with a loud thud.
9
Banks
I glance at the clock.Again.
The day has gone by slowly, even for a Monday. It didn’t help that I couldn’t sleep last night. It also didn’t help that when I got here, Tasha was saying the wordvacationa lot. And it surely didn’t make things go by faster as I kept checking the time.
“Just bring your car by my shop this week, and I’ll reset it for you.”
I didn’t say to bring it by Monday. So why do I keep thinking she’ll come by today?
I study my computer screen and try to decide between the white and blue options for the item in front of me. The white is crisper, but the blue would probably grab more attention.
I click the blue and stick it in my cart.Done.
Maddox hasn’t called or texted me today either, and that’s not helping things. Not that having a conversation with him about Sara would help, but it would make me feel better about it. Just knowing he wasn’t mad—that he understood—would help tons.
Except he probably is mad, and he probably doesn’t understand.
Hell, I don’t know if I understand myself.
I stretch back, my chair squealing from the effort. I groan, feeling the pull of my muscles all the way to my toes. The relief is nice. It’s needed. It’s notallthe relief I need, but it’ll have to do until I get home.
Home.
“Dammit,” I mutter and sit upright again.
