“Don’t shake your finger at me,” I warn. I’m pushing against him to get to her. “I’ll rip every extension from your head.” She actually has nice extensions. I’d love to ruin them. “I’ll wrap them around your skinny neck and strangle you with them.” I’m still reaching for her, and Logan can’t sign, because he has her on one side and me on the other. I swipe at my cheek. The bitch spit on me. He hands her to the twins, who try to calm her down.
He holds up one finger at me. I think he wants me to wait. Wait for what? That skinny little no account whore just spit in my face. He shakes that finger at me again. I grab it and bend it back, until he winces and makes me let go. He’s stronger than me and I know it. But it felt good. I could get tired of that finger really quickly.
He bites his lips together and sets me back from him. Then he walks to her, takes her by the elbow and escorts her to the door. She slides her shoes on as she goes, and her pants are still unbuttoned. She’s going to be doing the walk of shame and she didn’t even get laid. I take a good bit of joy in that. I’m more content than a cat in a windowsill. Logan signs something to Paul.
Paul turns to the twins and says, “One of you walk her home. It’s late.”
They both volunteer by raising their hands and jumping up and down. He calls on the one on the left. “Pete, you take her.” He glares at him. “Don’t stay long.”
“Asswipe,” the other one grumbles as he stalks back to the couch. “Pete gets to do everything.” He clunks his feet down on the table. Then he changes his mind, stomps down the hallway and slams the door to his bedroom.
“Pete’s not a man whore,” Paul calls in the wake of his departure, deadpan.
“Since when?” Sam complains, sticking his head back out his door. “I’ll have you know-” But he shuts his mouth when Paul glares at him. The door slams closed behind him again.
Logan swipes a hand down his face and then grabs my arm, leading me into his room. He closes the door behind us. “I didn’t know she’d be here,” he says. His voice is halting and slow.
I pout, crossing my arms beneath my br**sts. He looks down at them. He is such a guy. “When was the last time you slept with her?” I don’t know why I want to know this.
He holds up three fingers and points behind him. He’s not quite meeting my eyes.
“Three days ago?” I clarify.
He nods. “But I didn’t invite her tonight.”
“Is she your girlfriend?” I ask.
He shakes his head. He holds up that finger again and I roll my eyes.
He leaves the room and comes back with a stack of clean sheets. He jerks the slut sheets off the bed and throws them in the hallway. He motions for me to walk around to the other side of the bed, and then he snaps the sheet open and makes a movement like he wants me to help him. I might as well.
I work quietly with him to make the bed. Then he crosses to me and tilts my chin up. I think he’s going to try to kiss me and I’m balling up my fist to deck him again. But he just looks into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is clear. Halting, but clear.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I say.
He jerks his head back, clearly surprised. He steps back and shakes his head, and I think he’s biting back a smile. “I brought you here to keep you safe. Not to have sex with you.” He smiles again, and then he walks out of the room.
I follow him, because I don’t think we’re done yet. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer, pops the top of it and offers it to me. At the last second, he takes it back. “How old are you?” he asks, his brows drawing together.
“Nineteen,” I admit. He puts the beer back and hands me a cold bottle of water. I take it. It’s cool. And I’m thirsty. “What now?” I ask. He takes a sip of his beer.
He shrugs, and goes to sit on the couch. I look around. The place is a mess. There are pizza boxes everywhere, and dirty laundry piled up in the hallway. There are dishes in the sink, and the counter is full of clutter. There hasn’t been a woman in this place for a really long time.
“Can I use your shower?” I ask. It has been a few days since I had a shower. It’s hard to protect my stuff when I’m wet and naked, but I’m not too worried about it now.
Paul looks over his shoulder and then signs something to Logan. Logan looks at me and nods, pointing down the hallway. He makes a two with his finger and points, and I assume he means the second door. So, I grab my bag and head that way.
I open the door without knocking and I find Matthew hunched over the toilet. I move to step back and he looks me in the eye, his watery and red. “Don’t tell my brothers,” he warns. He starts to wretch again, and I step in the room and close the door. I open the cabinets and find a wash cloth, wetting it with cold water. I pass it to him and he wipes his face. He closes the toilet, flushes it and sits down on it. “Fucking chemo,” he says. “It’s a bitch.”
“Do they know you’re sick?” I ask.
He shakes his head and flushes the toilet again when it stops running. “Please don’t tell them. They have enough to worry about.”
“I won’t.”
“Did you need to use the bathroom?” he asks. He doesn’t look like he has enough strength to stand.
“I was going to take a shower,” I say. “But I can wait.”
He gets up, groaning. “I think I’m good for now.” He smiles a watery smile. “But I might have to barge in on you.” He removes a towel from the cabinet and lays it by the sink for me.