Page 183 of The Anti-Heroes Collection

“Or, knowing you, you were fighting with me in your head.” He starts to laugh, and I realize I probably made a face that gave me away. “You were. What were we fighting about?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I take the T-shirt from his hands and slip it on over my head. As soon as it covers the towel that is wrapped around my body, I shimmy it off.

And that’s when I realize I’m missing one thing . . .

“Um . . .”

He gives me a go on look. “Yes?”

“I, um, need underwear.”

He looks down at my exposed legs, and a slight smirk spreads. “I don’t have any women’s underwear in here. Guess you will have to go without.”

“This is total bullshit.” I groan, tilting my head up to the ceiling as if it holds all the answers. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“What?”

“Your good behavior.” I drop my gaze back to him. “You’re back to being a jackass.”

“I hardly call refusing to rummage through your underwear a jackass behavior, but tomato, tomahto. You say jackass; I say princely.”

“It’s not that. It’s that damn smirk on your face.”

His smile grows bolder at my claim.

“See?” I nod toward it. “There’s the brat.”

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He shrugs. “Go to bed, Payton.”

“Give me a pair of boxers, Trent.”

He reaches into another drawer, tosses me a pair, and turns his back to pull down the covers on the bed.

I huff and struggle into the boxers. When he’s done with the bed, I expect to hear his footsteps announce his exit. Instead, I’m shocked to still hear him walking around in the room. I refuse to ask him what he’s doing because, obviously, I’m very mature at this point in our arguing.

Climbing into the soft bedsheets, I grit my teeth and wait . . . and wait.

And wait some more.

Finally, it’s too much to bear.

“Why are you still here?” I ask him.

He takes a seat in the chaise lounge opposite the bed, just staring at me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask again.

He lifts the throw blanket he tossed on top of himself. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Jeez, stop with the damn question-for-a-question and just tell me.”

He adjusts in the chaise. “I’m sleeping here.”

The hell he is.

I try to pop my body up, but it hurts too much.

---