4. Nina
Chapter four
Nina
Uh, I hated the fuck out of that dude.
How on earth did he become an even bigger dick than he used to be? Was Knox in competition with his younger self to see which was more of a dick than the other? Because one thing’s for sure: this one was a twelve-inch, thick, veiny dick-of-a-man.
Heaving out a breath, I chewed my burnt pancakes and tried to focus on the show I was watching. Euphoria was a classic. I’ve seen both seasons three times already, and I can’t get enough. I’d been so immersed in it that I left my pancakes in the pan for longer than I should have, and they ended up burning.
I couldn’t throw them away, so I just kept drizzling on syrup and ate them like that.
If that asshole had a problem with it, then he could tell me politely. There was no need to be mean about it. So what if I’d had housekeepers and chefs catering to my every need as a child? Was it my fault that my parents were rich and liked to throw their wealth around? How dare he use that against me.
Knox was a rude, egotistical dickface who thought he was better than everyone else. Asshole. I hated him.
“Fuck.” I closed my iPad and tossed it onto my bed. There was no way I could ogle Jacob Elordi now. I was too riled up. Fuming, I mentally dared Knox to disrespect me again. Then I’d show him who was the boss.
I even offered to make him breakfast! Scowling, I fell back onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling. I didn’t make breakfast for anyone. Lindsay was the chef. The last time I’d tried to really cook was when she offered to teach me. I ended up splashing hot oil all over the place, making the flame from the stove flare up and almost burning our dorm room to the ground.
Even so, I was trying to be nice. Asshole . Rejecting me so rudely and then proceeding to tell me to shut the fuck up whenever he was around?
But nothing pained me half as much as he calling me a rich kid with zero survival skills.
***
For the next three days, I avoided Knox. When I wasn’t painting, which was my favorite thing to do, I was listening at my door for footsteps. Knox usually left in the mornings and came back at night. So I waited until I heard him leave before exiting my room.
He had a key now. I’d left it out for him, and he must have found it. Easier to just leave things for him on the kitchen counter so we didn’t have to speak.
It was such a shame that someone as hot as Knox had such a terrible attitude. Because, truly, the man was painstakingly handsome. His hair was a dark shade of blond, darker than Lindsay’s, and long enough that it must fall to his shoulders. He usually wore it in a bun at the back of his head.
His strong jawline was so sharp that it could have cut glass, and that five o’clock shadow that lined his face seemed to be permanent. He’d always had facial hair, even in his younger years. Maintaining it at a consistent length to give the impression that he didn't care much about it.
His eyes were like sapphires, intensely watching everything, and his plump lips were entirely too sexy for their own good. Even his thick eyebrows were flawlessly arched. Seriously, it wasn’t fair that the assholes got the perfect faces.
Regardless of how breathtaking he was, his attitude could use some serious refinement. He’d insulted me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how insignificant he made me feel with his words.
Right from the day I learned how to speak, I’d been surrounded by people. And not just my family, but “friends.” Growing up in Cali, both girls and boys struggled to get close to me. Still, I was very popular in high school. And for a while, I thought it was because I was so likable and friendly. It wasn’t until junior year when a fight broke out between me and a “friend” that I realized the truth. She casually commented that I was useless without my parent’s money, and that’s when I learned that my likability was tied to my family’s affluence.
After that, I shut everyone out. Unfriended all of them and stayed by myself. It hurt because I wasn’t used to solitude. But I made it work. I would rather be alone than be friends with people who thought so little of me.
It was around that time that Lindsay and I began to talk. She sat alone at lunch, and one day I absentmindedly sat with her. Just like that, we hit it off. She minded her own business, although I didn’t realize until later that it had a lot to do with her family going through financial difficulties.
Of course, I was skeptical at first. No one who’d been treated like me would be eager to make a new friend. But the best part was… Lindsay didn’t push. On some days, she waited for me to speak to her first, others, she didn’t even show up at school.
I missed her one day when she wasn’t in class, and after finding out where she lived, I went to see her. I will never forget the look on her face when she opened the door and saw me. That gleaming smile. That was the turning point for me.
Lindsay was the only person who understood my reservations about my family’s wealth, and how small it made me feel. She didn’t disparage me for my ingratitude, instead, she motivated me to be my own person.
We ended up going to the same college, and from sophomore to junior year of college, we both worked shifts at a diner. She needed the job more than I did, but I worked because I wanted the experience, and the confidence making my own cash gave me. My parents weren’t okay with it, obviously, but their opinion mattered very little in the grand scheme of things.
I was quite content with Lindsay being my only close friend. I never really needed anyone else
Point is, I’d tried my goddamn best, yet here was Lindsay’s dickhead brother, shitting on all my efforts.
At least now that he’d made it very clear that he didn’t like me, I didn’t have to be nice. Fuck him all the way to hell. In fact, if he wanted hell, I’d show him all nine levels until he moved out.
The sooner the better.
Thinking about my life always put me in a sour mood, and now I am hungry. I didn’t know how long it’d been since lunch, and I didn’t care. If this was the past, I’d order some Uber eats or pizza, but I was trying to cut down on the excessive spending and be a responsible adult.
I headed to the kitchen, sighing in relief when I saw it was empty. The last thing I needed right now was to bump into Knox. He was in the house. It was a Saturday, and I hadn’t heard him leave yet today.
I got in contact with my inner chef, donning my favorite pink apron and matching hat. Look good to feel good, right? Smiling, I whisked to the expensive fridge I bought—courtesy of my parents’ money—and pulled the double doors open, cocking my head to the side.
“Alright. What do we have here?” I mumbled, looking through the contents. I could see tomatoes and some bell peppers and… milk? I reached for them, moving to the counter. “Okay. Let’s make some pasta.”
Of course I was making pasta. It was the only other thing I could cook. I took out a knife and a cutting board and chopped the vegetables.
Cooking for me was a new experience every time. I was terrible at it, and it was that knowledge that had me moving as slowly as possible so I didn’t make a drastic mistake. Like adding the tomatoes to the boiling water before parboiling the spaghetti or adding too much spice to the cream sauce.
And as weird as it sounded, even though I was bad at it, I thoroughly enjoyed being in the kitchen. To me, it was an art. Much like painting, mixing things was always therapeutic to me. I loved watching the different colors come together in the pot. It always made me feel good afterwards.
Sure, the process was a mess. There were pots everywhere, I’d spilled milk all over the stove, and there were chunks of tomatoes sticking to the counter. It’d been about an hour and my head hurt, my tank top was sticking to my skin, and I reeked of onions.
I needed a shower. I’d clean the kitchen after I was done cleaning myself.
I grabbed some clothes from my bedroom and made my way to the bathroom. Thankfully, I figured out that Knox usually used the bathroom in the mornings, so we didn’t have to run into each other. It helped that my room was right next door. There was the option of using Lindsay’s bathroom, but this one was closer, and I really preferred the one I’ve used since I moved in. Why should I let him get in my way?
Showering took less than twenty minutes. For a brief second, I almost walked out of the bathroom in just my panties. But then I remembered the grouch down the hall. It wouldn’t make a good impression if he saw me in my underwear. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to seduce him or anything crazy like that. So, I settled for some shorts and a crop top.
Once that was taken care of, I headed back to the kitchen, immediately groaning. This was the part I hated about cooking: cleaning up. It always felt dirty and disgusting, and I wished I didn’t have to do it. Short of hiring a housekeeper—which would go down really well with Assface—I didn’t see how I was getting out of this, so…
Walking into the kitchen, I paused. Speak of the fucking Devil. What the hell did Knox want now? He was standing in front of me, eyes taking in the chaos. The place looked like a truck drove through it, but I was going to tidy up. Why did he have to find it like this?
Ignoring Knox, I walked past him to the stove, grabbing a rag and began wiping the milk. I tried to ignore him, but his imposing presence and watchful gaze were inescapable.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I pursed my lips and faced him, jutting out a hip. Big mistake. My eyes raked over him and I actually felt my ovaries cry a little.
Petition to ban Knox Coleman from wearing compression shirts for the sake of womenfolk everywhere.
I dragged my gaze to his face, giving him my sassiest look. “Unless you’re about to beg for pasta, I don’t see why you’re standing there, staring like a creep.”
“This place is a mess,” he said, disgusted. “What, did you forget how to use a stove?”
“Did you forget how to mind your business?”
“Why don’t you just hire a chef like you’re used to and save yourself the trouble? Because if you’re trying to prove something to me, then you’re wasting your time.”
Fury gnawed at the edges of my constraint. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Get over yourself. You’re not important.”
Knox snorted, letting his eyes trail around the kitchen before darting back to me. “Doesn’t look like it. Next, you’ll be wiping out cabinets and cleaning bathrooms to prove you’re not a spoiled little princess.”
I scowled. “Fuck you.”
His lips curved into a sneer. “I’m not interested. Look, if we’re going to live together, then I have some ground rules.”
I was ready for war. Tossing the rag, I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t miss how his gaze followed the movement. “Not in my house, you don’t. In fact, if anyone should be making rules, it’s me. So get off your high horse.”
Knox glared at me. “As I was saying… it’s important to set some boundaries when sharing a space. I hope I don’t have to explain to you what that means.”
My hands fell from my chest. Jesus Christ. How old did he think I was? I went from angry to shocked to enraged in a split second. My chest heaved and my eyes burned with the intensity of my fury.
“You fucking exasperating, aggravating—”
He yawned in an entirely patronizing manner. “Wow. You know some big words. Good for you.”
Oh, my fucking — I was going to kill him. Chop him up into tiny pieces and throw him at the bottom of the ocean. Best friend’s brother be damned. He was hands down the most infuriating piece of shit I’d ever had the misfortune of meeting.
“Right. If you’re done showing off your big vocabulary,” Knox scoffed, “we need to set some ground rules.” He folded his massive arms across his chest, that stupid compression shirt displaying his bulging muscles as he fixed me with his classic heated gaze. “First off, I do not enjoy walking into a messy kitchen. Since you say you’re not a child, clean up after yourself. Second, I would like to use the bathroom without being assaulted by your… underwear lying around.”
The look I gave him screamed, I don’t care, bitch . If he didn’t want to see my thongs, then he should find somewhere else to shower. Or live. Whichever worked for him.
“Third,” he went on, “whenever I’m in the house, I prefer complete silence. No giggling or crying while watching chick flicks. Also, chore rotations must be imposed. I refuse to do all the work while you rest your pretty head.” His eyes scaled down my body. “Last, for fuck’s sakes, cover up. You’re practically naked.”
I looked down, frowning. How the hell was I naked? I glowered at him. “I am ‘covered up.’”
“Oh, so this is on purpose?” He raised a brow. “Those shorter-than-short shorts and that scrawny piece of fabric you call a top that barely covers anything were worn to what, seduce me?”
I blanched. “I…” I struggled for words to explain myself, even though something told me it was pointless. “You’re… You’re disgusting! I’d sooner eat hot charcoal.”
But now Knox’s eyes were filled with mirth. “Of course you would. In the meantime, wear some actual clothes. You look cheap.”
My cheeks were burning now. Redder than the tomato I’d just cooked, I was sure. I did not know what his problem with me was, but for some reason, he hated my guts. Which was ridiculous because he’d known me for years, and he’d only just started to actually speak to me. What could I possibly have done to deserve this?
“Anything else you’d like to add, Your Grace?” I scoffed. “Do you want me to lie flat on the ground so you can walk all over me? Clean your shoes with my tongue every morning before you run off to your little job to do whatever the fuck it is old men like you do in their spare time?”
His jaw clenched, and his sapphire orbs darkened.
Hmm. I sent him a cocky smile. Hit a nerve, did I? All I’d done was throw his own words back at him. Give him a taste of how it’d felt when he’d said those mean things to me.
If Knox was going to be petty enough to attack me with my age, then I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to him. This was war, and I was out for blood.
“I have no idea why she’s friends with you,” he spat, and I instantly tensed up. My friendship with Lindsay was a tough topic for me, especially since we were so glaringly different.
Knox noticed my discomfort, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. “She’s so well put together, organized—the very things you’re not. You’re still the same disorderly, insecure, immature little girl you used to be all those years ago, desperately gripping onto anyone who will show you a tiny scrap of affection. Apparently, money can’t buy love.”
My eyes welled up. Goddammit! Don’t cry, Nina. Don’t let him see you break. He’s not worth it.
But the pep talk wasn’t working. My vision was getting blurry and my skin felt clammy. Angry veins pulsed in my neck as my chest tightened.
How dare he? Who the fuck did he think he was to speak to me like that? This was my house! Mine. I was… fuck.
One tear fell. I quickly swiped it away, averting my gaze so I wouldn’t see the smug look on his face. The worst part was, something told me Knox wasn’t being mean to win some stupid war. No. It was ingrained in him, this blatant cynicism. I doubted he knew how to be nice to anyone after years of dwelling in a constant state of morose ignorance.
And you know what? I didn’t care. He was an asshole through and through, and no amount of justification could make up for that.
Gathering what was left of my dignity, I breezed past him, slowing down long enough to mutter, “You’re right. I’m an inept rich brat whose life only has meaning because of her parent’s wealth. If you want a spotless kitchen, I suggest you clean it up yourself.”