10. Riley #3
It was stupid how distracting it all was. And it was stupid how Riley couldn’t look away or do anything while Sloan was standing so close to him.
Blinking, breathing and speaking became impossible, and then the scent of aftershave hit him, taking away what senses were left.
Clean with a warm edge to it, familiar enough to punch straight through his guard because it was so close to what Jake wore.
It was a scent he associated with comfort, which was completely at odds with the way Riley’s chest tightened.
And that’s when Riley’s mind finally rebooted, and he realized how long he had been staring at Sloan’s face. How close they were standing. How his body had gone still, like he was anticipating something.
Sloan noticed. Of course, he noticed. His lips curled, fighting a smirk.
Riley swallowed hard, heat prickling the back of his neck.
He needed to look away.
He needed to get the fuck out of there.
“Alright,” said Sloan, his tone hitting a level of arrogance that had Riley bristling. “The pretty one isn’t your boyfriend. I believe you.”
Sloan chuckled as he slipped away, giving Riley the room he needed to breathe again. He returned to the kitchen, hands shoved into his pockets like some kind of hooligan while whistling an off-key tune.
Crazy motherfucker.
Riley hurried out of the entryway before he got cornered again, keeping his eyes on the floor so he wasn’t tempted to glare at Sloan and start a fight.
“I noticed my bedroom is above yours,” Sloan began.
Cursing, Riley stopped mid-sprint to glower at him, fists clenching at his sides.
“This is my advance apology for keeping you awake when I bring chicks over. They tend to be loud with me—no idea why.”
Oh, this smug sonofabitch. If he didn’t put space between them in the next five seconds, he was going to hop the counter and strangle him. Then he wouldn’t get called up for sure, because he would be in jail.
But thankfully, he knew exactly how to respond. Riley could admit that his answering smile was a little too gleeful as he straightened his back and looked Sloan dead in the eye.
“My sister once told me that girls are only loud when they’re faking it.”
He stayed long enough to see the look of slack-jawed horror on Sloan’s face, and then hurried to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
He slid to the floor and took a deep breath, fighting through the rush of despair that always washed over him whenever he thought of his sister, while battling his excitement of getting one up on Kingston Sloan.
Sloan didn’t need to know if he was telling the truth, and he didn’t need to know that Riley didn’t have a sister.
Not anymore.
He sat miserably on his floor, thumb soothing the ache that had sprung in his temple after the whole ordeal. He almost missed his phone lighting up in his pocket because he had his eyes closed, and when Riley pulled it out, he saw there was a text from Allen.
Allen: Be here for breakfast tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’m not cooking. Wouldn’t want Jake’s trillion-dollar building to go up in flames.
Allen: What do you want to do when you come over? We could watch hockey if you really want, but I will bitch about it the whole time.
Allen: Why does Jake keep pacing from the couch to the fridge? Does he need his batteries charged? He doesn’t think that new food will magically appear if he opens it enough times, does he?
Jake: Allen is looking at me funny.
Riley held a hand to his mouth to stop from laughing obnoxiously loud. Maybe leaving Allen and Jake had been a stupid idea when all he had to do was invest in a good pair of earplugs.
Allen: Jake is looking at me funny.
Riley shook his head and put his phone face down on the floor. He was going to…let them iron things out on their own for a few minutes before he agreed to Allen’s offer.
A knock on his door had him biting back a yelp, and Riley flinched hard enough to smack his head against the wood.
“Food is ready,” said Sloan. “Come eat.”
Riley scowled even though Sloan couldn’t see his face. “It’s pushing midnight, bud.”
There was a pause, and then Sloan bumped into the door. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not fucking hungry? What guy turns down greasy food and hockey reruns?”
Not Riley, but he was considering drowning himself in the tub to avoid going back out there.
“Just…give me five fucking minutes,” said Riley, picking up his phone. “I have to text someone about plans tomorrow.”
Sloan’s laugh was cutting. “You could have told me you were jerking off, dude.”
Riley heard him walk away before he could tell him to fuck himself. He looked at his phone longingly, wishing he could teleport to Jake’s house and escape the new hell that was his life.
And then he remembered why he was dealing with Sloan, and who was responsible for this hell.
Riley opened his messages with Jake and grinned.
I’ll be over tomorrow. Allen told me you have a booger in your nose, but he’s too shy to tell you.
Jake had no idea how much torment was coming his way because of this.
No. Fucking. Idea.