Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“She keeps drinking my goddamn almond milk,” Draven complained to Wren and a few of his other bandmates after they finished up practice at the studio, and they asked him how his new roomie situation was going.
Wren snorted. “You do realize you’re almost thirty and whining about milk.”
“It’s my milk,” Draven stressed. He would have been fine with sharing if she had not accused him of stealing her milk. Was she so used to having everything paid for her? Was she so spoiled that she truly believed she had bought his milk? “She’s crazy.”
“Dude,” Yin, the band’s bassist, said in a warning tone. “Men don’t call women crazy.”
“But…my milk,” Draven repeated.
She wrongly believed she owned his milk. She had fooled with the damn thermostat to try to freeze him to death. Yeah, she was crazy hot when she got that smug, stubborn I win expression, but come on!
“Thirty. Years. Old,” Wren repeated as if Draven was the one being immature.
Was he already planning another thermostat war as retribution? Yes. But he wasn’t about to share his battle plan with his traitor bandmates. Odds were, Wren would run to his fiancé Mallory, who would communicate the plan of attack to her friend, thus eliminating the crucial element of surprise.
“I’m just glad you are not trying to sleep with her,” Wren said.
Because that was all anybody thought Draven was good for nowadays. Nice, he grumbled to himself.
Draven raked his hands over his face. “Why does everyone seem to think I’m only capable of sex?” He was two out of seven days through his “no sex” challenge with Thea. He would sooner die than lose that. I hate the way she looks at me .
“Dude, we once walked in on you screwing that one groupie in our shared dressing room.”
“When I was twenty-two years old,” Draven shot back. His bandmates shrugged. God forbid anyone sees me as more than the sexed-up, irresponsible rock star drummer. “Dicks.”
“Drave, we’re about to go on tour in two months,” the lead singer, Tomi, said. “Let the apartment go. Hell, how do you not have enough money from the band to pay for a two-bedroom and one bath apartment yourself without a roommate? Where is your money going?”
My money is going everywhere . Draven was paying for his two younger siblings to go to college while also paying for his grandmother’s expensive as heck nursing home.
Not to mention, he had put a bunch of his money into stocks, thinking he could invest in his future and not be a washed-up has-been with no money in twenty years, but the stock market had dropped, destroying that hope and the bulk of his savings for now.
The men shook their heads at Draven, most likely assuming the drummer spent most of his earnings on beer, porn, and anything else seemingly immature. Had there been a time when that assumption had been true? Maybe in college, when their “boy band” became popular and videos went viral overnight. But Draven was approaching thirty years old, along with his other bandmates. He was not the same stupid kid he once was.
“You really need to start thinking more like an adult, man,” Wren chastised him. None of the bandmates knew about Draven’s family expenses, and Draven wanted to keep it that way.
“What’s your new roomie up to today?” Yin asked, flipping his bleached hair.
“She is out doing some job interviews,” Draven replied. He kept to himself that she looked cute as hell leaving their apartment in her black and white polka dot dress and pearl necklace. “Hopefully, she gets something, so she can pay for her own damn milk.”
Wren palmed his face with a groan. “Thirty. Years. Old.”
* * *
Nobody wants me . Thea trudged into the apartment after a long day of unsuccessful interviews with financial firms. No one had acted interested in her, and she could hardly blame them after one interviewer asked, “ Where do you see yourself in five years? ” and she struggled to respond.
Thea had worked in finance since she graduated college four years ago. It was ridiculous that her old financial firm would not give her a professional reference. All because of a stupid, impulsive note .
She participated in office gossip. Once.
While other hearing people could huddle around the coffee machine and say whatever they wanted about the boss, Thea had to write down her complaints about her leadership’s incompetency to join in with her coworkers. And since everyone else’s words weren’t written down , she was the only one to lose her job over it. She had only complained to feel like more of a member of the team. It’s not fair .
As Thea walked into the living room, a wave of heat slammed into her.
Literal heat. My God , it had to be over eighty degrees in the apartment.
Draven , she grumbled silently to herself.
Was this the start of their new and improved thermostat war? Was she supposed to strip down to her undies to not perish from heat exhaustion—all due to her pride of not wanting to admit defeat?
But I feel defeated .
Arms spread wide along the back of the couch, Draven sat in front of the television, lounging in nothing but boxers again and looking too damn sexy for this earth. He has probably never been rejected from a job . Probably never been rejected in general. Hate that. Hate him .
In a moment of hurt, anger, and frustration, she stripped her jacket and threw it to the living room floor, stomped over, and threw herself down on the couch cushion beside him.
His lips curled at her dramatic display of annoyance. He lifted the remote and hit a button. When Thea glanced at the TV, she noticed he had turned on subtitles. Without her even asking.
Blinking in surprise and sudden warmth, she looked back at him. Even her parents occasionally forgot to turn them on when she visited them.
He leaned over to the coffee table on his left and lifted a notepad. On it, in his handwriting, was: “ How did the job hunt go? ” As if he had written it hours ago in preparation for when she returned home.
She blinked again. He handed her the notepad and an uncapped pen. He wanted to hear about her day?
She swallowed the emotions rising to the back of her throat and wrote back to him. “ Fine. Nothing yet, but I’ll find something. There are always finance jobs .”
That was why she went into finance in the first place. A stable and steady job meant a stable and steady life. Oh, really? How is that working out for you, Thea? She frowned at herself.
Draven nodded at her message, writing back, “ I don’t trust people who find math fun .”
“ It isn’t fun. It’s a job ,” she wrote.
His lips curved downward as he jotted, “ I find my job fun .”
“ Yeah, all you do is hit a drum set and sleep with women .” She joked and smirked at him, surprised to find herself trying to tease him.
But he did not take it as a soft, playful jest.
Draven’s nostrils flared. His jaw ticked. His once at-ease body stiffened on the couch. The drummer’s light green eyes were like clear pools of pond water, reflecting every ripple of emotion he felt. Anger. Hurt.
He furiously wrote back, “ At least I’m following my dream and not selling out for a 401k .”
Jerkily, as if having to find his footing, he stood from the couch and strode down the hall to his bedroom.
Thea had…hurt his feelings? The playboy drummer had feelings to hurt? Her front teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“ At least I’m following my dream .” Draven’s words echoed in her head, bouncing around her skull in an annoying zig-zagging way that told her maybe he was right.
She had chosen finance because it was safe.
She had chosen Alec because he felt safe.
But what did she want?
What was her dream?
And why did she suddenly feel the need to apologize to Draven freaking Maxwell?