Ruin My Life (Mangled Masterpieces #1)

32. Remy

32

Remy

D iffused morning light filters through my closed lids, casting a pink glow over my mind. My alarm didn’t go off. I must have a few more minutes before class…

Wait.

It’s Saturday.

Last night comes back to me in fragments. I groan, rolling onto my stomach to smash my face in the pillow. Kicking my leg out, I’m met with cool, empty sheets. But I didn’t go to bed alone.

Unless it was all a wild dream.

The dull ache in my ass says it definitely happened. While my cock likes the little reminder, I, on the other hand, am panicking.

Whipping the quilt aside, I scan the room. My vision takes a second to catch up but I instantly notice two things are missing:

Win.

And my fucking cat.

Meaning he’s here somewhere and she’s likely schmoozing. It takes a conscious effort to ignore my eager morning wood as I enter the scene of the crime: the bathroom .

No Win or Mitz to be seen.

“Fucking assholes, both of them,” I mutter under my breath, quickly taking a piss and brushing my teeth while collecting myself. I need to take my meds. Get dressed. Work on the internship application my student advisor emailed. There’s something else but I can’t remember.

Throwing on a tee, I pad into the kitchen—

The smell hits me first. Bacon. My mouth waters.

Not only for the bacon.

Standing at the stove in the sweats I gave him is Win with a dish rag tossed casually over his bare tattooed shoulder. I’m transfixed by the shift of muscles in his arm as he removes a skillet from the burner and scoops scrambled eggs onto a plate.

Mitz meows upon seeing me.

His spatula clatters to the floor. “Shit, baby, you scared me. I thought you were still dead to the world,” he laughs. Grey eyes squint as he sets the pan down and approaches cautiously. “You ok?”

I force a swallow around the jagged boulder lodged in my throat. “Yeah, you, uh,” I stammer, “You remembered.”

It’s agonizing to watch the memories descend on him, his expression flitting between painful and wistful. His glossy eyes round.

“‘One Day’ came.”

Don’t you dare cry, Remy. You’re not bawling your eyes out because he reminds you of the innocent boy you fell so madly in love with.

Except he is. I see him: my Win, my Starlight, my best friend. He’s there, peeking out of every quivering smile and sassy remark. But he’s more. He’s vulnerable, raw, flirty, bold, open and comfortable.

He’s too good to be true .

And it scares the shit out of me.

“I hope you’re hungry because I panicked and made enough to feed a small army,” he rambles, a blush rising in his cheeks as he rubs the back of his head.

Why. Is. He. So. Fucking. Adorable?

“It smells good,” I murmur, flashing him a small smile.

Stars sparkle in his eyes. Fidgeting, he hurries back to the stove to shut it off. The fog of sleep fades and I notice the soft music playing from his phone on the counter. It's one of my favorites.

I want to hate him— I really do— but he’s making it impossible.

I clear my throat. “Your mom called last night.”

He scrapes fried cheese and egg off the end of the spatula with his teeth. “Yeah, I texted her this morning. Thanks for answering. She would've lost her shit otherwise.”

I’m distracted by the dart of his tongue across his greasy bottom lip. He gives me one insane blow job and I’ve lost all sense of reason.

I’m a fool.

“No problem,” I mumble, digging my knuckle into my eye and plopping on a stool at the counter. He slides me a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, hashbrowns and mini pancakes covered in little chocolate chips. A bottle of syrup lands beside a giant latte.

I can’t catch a break.

He stands across the kitchen island, adding a splash of hazelnut creamer to his coffee.

My nose wrinkles. “Did you really have to bring that blasphemous liquid here?”

He smirks. “Yeah, along with that fancy mocha stuff you like.”

Pointing my pancake-loaded fork at his annoyingly pretty face, I snap, “Chocolate is superior to nuts.”

His brow arches. “Baby, we’ll forever disagree. I’ll always choose your nuts over chocolate. ”

Well, I set myself up for that one.

I shove the forkful in my mouth. Fuck, that’s good . By the smug look on his face, he can tell I’m enjoying it.

“Stop gloating.”

His hands fly up in surrender. “Not gloating.”

He totally is.

“What’s that face for then?”

Taking a sip of his coffee to hide his smile, he shrugs, “I’m just glad to see some things never change.”

I squint. “You mean my chocolate dependency?”

He laughs and the sound rattles the organ in my chest. “No, sweetheart, I’m referring to your lovely morning attitude.”

Scowling, I smother my plate in syrup. “Sorry I’m not a chipper morning cunt like you.”

That laugh again— full and deep— threatens to dismantle my sour mood. I’m gearing up for more verbal sparring when my phone starts blaring the ringtone assigned to my mother.

Attractive Asshole Numero Uno reaches across the counter, swipes to answer and taps the speaker icon. I’m glaring at him hard enough to burn holes through his skin.

“Remy, where the hell are you? We have twenty minutes until we need to set up the tables and your father is gonna pull his back again if he tries to do it by himself.”

Mother. Fucker.

Now I remember what I was supposed to do today: attend my parents' Annual Golf Club Cookout. I wipe a palm down my face and groan.

“Fuck, I forgot—”

“ Language! ”

“Sorry, I woke up late.”

“Did you take your meds?” she demands. “You’re always snappier when you don’t. ”

“I’m taking them right this second, Ma,” I grumble, pushing my plate aside.

Win plucks the orange prescription bottle from its home beside the candle and sets it in front of me. I make a face. The bastard blows me a kiss.

“Good, and make sure to eat something with protein because the roast won’t be ready for hours and I don’t want you filling up on pastries and sugar.”

Win snorts.

“Ma—”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Sullivan, I’ll make sure he gets plenty of protein.”

Ok, maybe I do still hate him.

“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss.

“ Language, Remy! ” Ma howls. “Now, who is that? Are you seeing someone? Did he stay the night? Did you at least go on a date first? God, I hope you’re practicing safe sex. You’ve both gotten tested, right?”

Aliens, if you exist, now is the perfect time to abduct me .

“Mine came back negative when I got admitted,” Win shrugs. To rehab. But that was over five months ago.

I stab the mute button. “Have you been with anyone since?”

“No, have you ?” he challenges.

No. I haven’t.

I don’t get to answer before Ma reminds me that she’s still on the line. “Remy! Did you hang up on your own mother?”

Shooting him a warning look, I unmute her.

“No, Ma, I didn’t want to chew in your ear.”

Win snorts again.

“I knew I taught you manners!” Ma exclaimed. “You know what? He made you breakfast, so he must be a good cookie. Ha! See what I did there? Anyway, bring him with you, we could use the extra muscle to set up. I’ll see you two soon. Oh! And don’t forget the dress code! Love you, muffin.”

The call disconnects and my teeth scream with how hard I’m clenching them. The demon across the counter is wearing the most obnoxious smile.

“You came out to them?”

I shrug. “Yeah.”

“When?”

I hold his stare, letting the age-old hurt rise to the surface. “Not long after you left.”

He chews the inside of his cheek and drops my gaze. We fall into a brief, tense silence. It’s broken when he glances at me with a hint of mischief. “So… what’s the dress code?”

My eye twitches. “You’re not going so it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, I’m going. Can’t disappoint Lucy Sullivan.”

I should tie him up and throw him over the balcony. Even better, the ocean on the way to my parents.

He rounds the island, curving over me from behind. His lips graze my ear. “You’re the one who wouldn’t let me leave last night. You’re gonna have to deal with the consequences.”

The ocean seems like a solid choice to drop his body. Such a shame since it’s so damn gorgeous.

Fucking hell .

I spin around, causing him to step back. The sliver of space is quickly eviscerated when his arms cage me in.

“You're not introducing yourself as my boyfriend,” I warn.

His head tilts like Mitz. “Then who am I going as? Your Ex or your fuck buddy?”

“My friend.”

Oh god. He’s smiling like a maniac. “I’m a boy… and your friend? By simple logic that makes me your boy friend. ”

“I changed my mind. We’re not friends. How do I get rid of you?” He lunges, biting my neck like a fucking vampire. “Ow! Get off me, you dick!”

The idiot chuckles as he licks the indents his teeth made. A shudder works down my spine. He hums, “Hmm, now that you’ve been bit… the diagnosis is terminal. Seems like you're stuck with me.”

My palms flatten on his toned abdomen, but rather than push him away, they fuse to his velvet skin.

“You can’t wear your clothes.”

His brows knit. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“They don’t fit the dress code.”

“Which is?”

I grimace. “Tommy Bahama threw up on a golf course.” He blinks. A slow smile unfurls on my lips. “You’re gonna look atrocious in mint green.”

Determination sharpens his features. “You underestimate me, sweetheart. I’m gonna have you drooling. Aching. Burning . You’ll be so needy, it won’t matter what I’m wearing, you’ll be begging to get me alone.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, shivers coursing through me despite the roaring inferno he’s ignited.

“We’ll see about that.”

His lips move to the corner of my mouth. “Go on then, Sunshine, dress me.”