Need Me (Mess with Me 3)

The are you kidding me look he sends my way makes my chest hurt from suppressed laughter. But the whole point is to be annoying so I make a puppy dog face.

“Please? I’m so thirsty. It was a lot of work trying on all those clothes.”

He heaves out a sigh and then gets to his feet. He trudges into the kitchen and bends down to look in the refrigerator. He comes back with a water bottle. I wait until he’s almost back to the couch before I make an exaggerated disgusted face.

“Oh no. I can’t drink those water bottles.”

He looks at it in confusion. “But they’re in your fridge.”

“They’re not for me. Those are for guests. I only drink the… organic, vitamin water infused with ginseng.” It’s a struggle to keep a straight face.

“Organic water?” The look he sends me this time is murderous.

“Only the best for your wifey!”

When he turns to go back to the kitchen, I call out “Thank you, honey!”

He brings back the can of organic gross water that Mya brought by a few weeks ago and forgot to take with her. I take the can and open it, making a huge production out of taking a sip. It’s so disgusting that it’s a struggle not to make a face.

I give him a thumbs-up.

“That is perfect. Thank you baby. It’s so nice to have a man around the house.”

“I’ll bet,” he responds drily.

After he gets settled on the couch, I decide not to ask him to get up again. Even I’m not that evil. He should at least be comfortable while I’m torturing him.

Being annoying is harder than I thought it would be. I’m running out of things to do. What do women normally do that men hate? Discreetly, I do a web search on my phone. The first hit is an article from a major women’s magazine. I click through and start reading the entries.

People actually do this stuff?

I close the article. I’m not going to the bathroom in front of him. Even I have to draw the line somewhere.

I pick up the remote. Maybe I can find one of those Housewives marathons. If that doesn’t push him over the edge, I don’t know what will. But when I turn on the TV, Netflix pops up.

One of the categories catches my eye.

“Let’s watch a movie! That always puts me in a good mood.”

“Excellent. Yes, let’s do that.”

He sounds so relieved that I have to smother my laugh with another sip of water. Except I forgot it was Mya’s gross water and the taste takes me off guard. I choke and droplets spill over my lips landing on the front of my shirt.

Vin watches me knowingly. “It must be good, huh? The organic water that you only had one can of.”

“Mmm hmm. It’s so good.”

I turn my head to cover my gagging and use the remote to hit the movie I want.

“The Baker’s Christmas Cupcake?” Vin reads one of the titles before turning horrified eyes in my direction.

“Maybe we should watch that one. That looks so sweet!”

“You want to watch a Christmas movie?” He swallows audibly. “It’s September.”

Jackpot.

I give myself a mental pat on the back. Sappy, romantic comedies that look like Santa threw up all over them are guaranteed to make him run for the hills.