Chapter 9
Morgan
When the bottle of orange juice nearly slips out of my hand for the second time, I know I have to take a breath.
Lifting my nose to the sky and closing my eyes, I pull in the deepest breath I can manage and hold it for five beats before releasing it slowly.
"You only do that when you're annoyed."
The interruption startles me enough to make me jolt, but the familiarity of Kaylee's voice doesn't force my eyes open.
"I'm trying not to lose my shit on a bottle of orange juice," I mutter, repeating my breathing steps twice more before opening my eyes to face her.
Her brows are drawn together as she watches me.
"Is it spoiled? They go through food so fast here, I can't imagine something got tucked in the back of the fridge and forgotten."
"I almost dropped it," I mutter. "Twice."
"Too much to drink last night?"
"I wish," I say, taking a tighter than normally necessary grip on the neck of the juice bottle before tilting it over my glass and pouring.
"I saw you and Rooster getting to know each other."
I lower the bottle to the counter before glaring at her. Knowing my luck this morning, I'd knock the whole thing to the floor if I'm not careful.
"I hardly know the man," I assure her.
I think that has a lot to do with my frustrations and issues this morning.
The guy has got to be clueless. Either that, or he seriously isn't interested in me at all. After all that has happened, I don't know if my ego can handle a hit like that.
I know with every part of my brain that handles reasoning that I shouldn't even look at Robert that way, especially not after what happened with his brother. That's a taboo line I never saw myself crossing, but there's a reason I was attracted to Henry. The guy is stunningly gorgeous, and seeing as Robert is his identical twin, it just makes sense I'd also be attracted to him.
Last night was fun, but I can't recall an evening in recent history when I spent time with a man who didn't at least flirt with me. I'm not a very firm believer in men and women having a platonic-only relationship. Someone always looks twice. There's always some wonder about what if and maybe, especially with how casual sex has become.
Robert watched me. He was quick to smile and laugh and joke. He didn't throw a fit or get an attitude when his declaration of being horrible at darts came true.
I didn't see a single red flag. Although part of my mind was trying to convince me that that in itself is a red flag, I never once imagined that he wasn't being genuine.
But he didn't lean in close or try to brush my hand. He didn't step up behind me to give me pointers when my dart stuck in the wall instead of the board.
It was friendly, even chaste, and I went to bed internalizing what was wrong with me, that he didn't act like other men.
And that's a whole other bag of worms I didn't want to consider. I know my worth isn't wrapped up in how a man feels about me, but it left me tossing and turning all night and annoyed that he was so kind.
I'm not really a hand-necklace kind of girl, but his restraint and courtesy made me imagine that he snapped shortly after he walked me to my room last night. I pictured him coming back, banging on my door, and reaching out and gripping my throat as he unleashed a fury of commands on my body.
"What's that face for?" Kaylee asks as she turns away to make a pot of coffee.
"Just annoyed," I mutter, wanting to keep my feelings of failure to myself but also wanting someone to talk to about it as well. "Why are men so fucking clueless?"
Motion across the room draws my attention, and I see Ellis standing several feet away. He glances from Kaylee to me and then back to Kaylee.
"This is girl shit," he says, hands by his ears as if my last sentence is holding him at gunpoint.
Kaylee chuckles when he spins around and walks away.
"Coward," I mutter but feel relieved that I'm not going to have this conversation with someone else present.
Kaylee is tapping her fingers on the counter, waiting for the coffee carafe to have enough coffee in it to pour herself a cup.
"I don't think he's interested in me at all," I confess, feeling more than a little vulnerable.
Kaylee turns to face me.
"I don't think that's true," she says. "He watched you all damn night. Ellis and I had bets on how long he was going to take before he approached you."
Confusion makes me scowl.
"I spent the entire evening with him. What are you talking about?"
Her eyebrows shoot up almost to her hairline. "Aren't you talking about Twisted?"
I want to pull my hair out. I know the guy has some sort of crush on me or something, but other than being nice to him, I haven't done anything to encourage him.
He was very kind the night of the party, helping me to the SUV, talking calmly and assuring me I was safe, but past that, there's nothing. Of course, he's good-looking, but being around handsome men isn't new for me. I'm not going to jump up and down and clap like a giddy schoolgirl because some handsome man watches me from across the room.
"You're talking about Rooster?"
"Robert," I correct, watching her face transform into worry and concern before she turns it back to something a little more passive.
"What?" I snap, rolling my lips between my teeth in an attempt to get my irritation under control. "Sorry."
"Is this concern why you're all out of sorts this morning?"
"It might be," I say, trying my best not to give it more power than it already has.
It's absolutely ridiculous that the idea of a guy not finding me attractive or showing any interest in me makes me want to pull my hair out and break things. And if I dig deep enough, I'm certain the urge to do all that in the first place is some kind of giant red flag for any therapist.
She holds her breath as she watches me. I can already tell by the way her face transforms that she's going to say something I don't like, but leave it up to my best friend to be brutally honest, even when it's the last thing I want.
"I get that you like to have fun, and men are sort of disposable for you—"
"Wow," I mutter.
"But this," she says, continuing as she swirls her finger to indicate the house. "Is not the place for you to pit one man against the other. These men—"
"What? That's not... I don't do that."
She tilts her head to the side, and I recognize the challenging look on her face. "Really? I can think of two, no three times for sport you had men competing against each other for your attention."
I lick at my suddenly dry lips.
"Okay," I concede. "I guess I have, but that's not what this is. I swear."
I consider what I know. Twisted does like me. As much as I know Robert hasn't done things to show he's interested, Twisted has done them a hundred times. I knew he was watching me last night. Robert even asked me about it, but I have no control over how someone else feels. I've given Twisted no reason to think I'd be interested in him unless he has a thing for vulnerable women. And what happened at my house the other night made me a prime candidate for his affection.
If that's the case... gross.
"Maybe this isn't the time to get tangled up with anyone," she suggests.
I know she's trying to be helpful, and maybe if I wasn't feeling some sort of way about Robert acting like I was his sister and not a viable person to fool around with, I might be able to see her reasoning.
But that's not the case, and her words sting.
"I can control myself, Kaylee. It's not like I'm going to get angry because I'm not getting fucked every night."
She raises an eyebrow at me in challenge, and the look on her face is so fucking comical that I literally huff a laugh.
I did throw a mild tantrum this morning over an orange juice bottle, after all.
"That's sage advice from someone getting dicked down multiple times a day."
"I'm not," she argues, but her cheeks pink and her hand suddenly becomes very interesting. "How would you even know that?"
"That man," I say, pointing in the direction Ellis went, "looked like he was going to cry when he saw me in here. I'm nearly certain he had plans to fuck you on the counter."
She swallows as her eyes dart in the direction I'm pointing, looking a little disappointed as if she's missing out on an opportunity.
"We wouldn't do that during the day," she says before covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes widening comically big. "Plus, we've only had sex once so far today."
"It's eight in the morning, Kaylee! Just arguing that it's only been once tells me how often it happens multiple times before most people get out of bed!"
She spins around, aiming her back at me as she busies herself making a cup of coffee.
"I have got to get out of here," I mutter as I walk to the fridge and put the orange juice bottle back inside.
"We could see about a spa day," she says.
"I need to go home."
I have her full attention when she turns back to face me. I swear I see genuine terror in her eyes as if I had just told her I met a prince online and was uprooting my entire life to go live with him in a third-world country.
"I don't think—"
"I can't stay here."
"Because there's a guy not falling at your feet?"
I tilt my head, my heart hurting a little that this is how she sees me, but I'm not really in a position to argue. As my best friend, she knows about almost all my dalliances, meaning she's well aware of my not-so-kind track record with men. I'm not going to go so far as to say that Robert is different because he may not be. I do know that the lack of flirty attention is very much responsible for my current mood.
"Wow. Okay," I say. I carry the glass of orange juice to the sink, knowing I can't handle bitter juice on my tongue right now after this conversation. "Tell me how you really feel."
"Nope," she says as she lifts her cup to her lips. "Don't gaslight me, Morgan Spence."
I clamp my mouth closed, knowing she's right.
"Maybe consider going back to work, like I suggested before. I don't think going home is safe."
"At a minimum, I have to go back and get more clothes. I hardly had time to pack anything before we came here."
I look down at my mismatched t-shirt and leggings, wondering if what I was wearing last night made Robert not interested.
I'm so fucked in the head. I may need to schedule some intense therapy sessions and worry about work and going home at some other point. Clearly, all of this is fucking with my head.
"Talk with Ellis about having someone escort you, please," she says.
"I will," I promise, knowing as much as I want to go home, I don't see myself ever feeling safe there again.