Lilac

Opening his eyes, Rich looked at Braxton, then me, and sighed. “It should,” he mumbled.

I stayed silent as he grabbed the remote from the cushion next to him and turned on the TV. The sound immediately filled the bus. I didn’t care what played if it was distracting. Rich channel surfed for a few minutes before settling on a movie that looked like it was just starting. It wasn’t until Gal Gadot popped on the screen that I realized what was playing. Snatching the remote from Rich, I cranked up the volume.

A stunningly sexy woman running around in armored lingerie and knocking douchebags on their asses? Count me in.

It wasn’t nearly as exciting as Braxton claiming to be a fucking sex addict, though. I didn’t buy it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Braxton, the nympho.

Nothing else sounded sweeter.

Or too good to be true.

Rich went to grab three beers from the fridge. They were only slightly chilled, but they would do. Popping the tabs on all three, he handed one to Brax, who surprisingly accepted. He shoved mine into my chest, spilling some on my shirt.

Fuck, I just had this dry cleaned.

We exchanged angry looks, warning each other to back off before focusing on Wonder Woman.

Yeah, I got his beef. I kept screwing up. So sue me.

Luckily, the one useful skill my father taught me was how to clean up a mess.

Rich had already eaten most of the three-meat pie meant for me, so I grabbed the one still closed and lifted the top. I watched Braxton pretend to watch the movie for a moment before I spoke. “Cheese and pineapple,” I announced like I’d baked it myself.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.” Just then, her stomach growled loud enough to be heard over the movie.

Perfect timing. I wasn’t surprised since I doubted she had much of an appetite before and after the show.

“Your stomach disagrees. Eat up.”

“I don’t need you to tell me when to eat, Loren. I’m perfectly capable of reading my body’s signals without your help.”

On cue, her stomach growled again, only louder this time. Huffing, she leaned forward and snatched one of the slices. After taking a bite, chewing, and swallowing, she tossed me a cheeky smile before rolling her brown eyes.

Grabbing one of the slices from her box instead of mine, I tore off half in one bite as if it would feed me insight into Braxton’s mind. It wasn’t bad. Of course, I was hungry as fuck. I couldn’t recall the last time I ate either. Being on the road could be brutal. There were times when even the most basic human necessities were either optional or forgotten.

We watched the movie mostly in silence. Rich and I made more than a few male appreciation sounds, which disgusted Braxton to no end.

“Do you ever dress up for Halloween?” I asked without preamble, rhyme, or reason.

She cut her gaze toward me. “Where is this going?”

I nodded toward the TV and Gal Godot playing a fierce Amazonian yet clueless demigod. “With the right phone calls, I’m sure we could get you an authentic costume. Then again, I’m thinking of Poison Ivy. Assuming you’re a natural redhead.”

My eyebrows rose as I waited for an answer. Of course, she didn’t take the bait, not that I expected her to, really.

“You’re exhausting,” she said with a shake of her head.

“I prefer riveting.”

“How about pig?”

“You could call me that, but then you’ll still want me to fuck you.” I shrugged.

Our gazes met and held, but she didn’t bother denying it. Falling into bed together was just a matter of when. We were wrong for each other in every facet but one—the chemistry we made could crumble the strongest mountain.

Because I was a gentleman when it suited me, I let her off the hook by focusing on the movie until my eyes started to droop.

The film wasn’t even close to ending. How long was this fucking thing?

I’d need a bed soon, preferably with Braxton in it.

Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention in time to see her yawn for the third time in ten minutes. While she was falling asleep, she must have thought up the perfect punishment for me because she turned on her side, and just before laying her head in Rich’s lap, she paused.

“Is this okay?”

Fucker didn’t even hesitate before nodding. She rewarded him with a sleepy smile, and then her head was on his fucking thigh.

I saw red.

It bloomed on Rich’s cheeks like he was a thirteen-year-old girl.

“Why am I friends with you?” I blurted out of jealousy. I didn’t give two shits about hiding it. “You’re twenty-seven years old, blushing because a girl asked to touch you platonically.” I shook my head in envy disguised as disgust. That should have been me Braxton was lying on. “God, you’re embarrassing.”