Chapter One - Megan
“You do realize your mom will ask her one hundred questions about you, right?” I glance up at Braden from my stretched out position on his floor.
“No shit,” he mutters. “That’s why you need to tell her what to say.”
I pause my aimless flicking through my magazine. “Let’s think about that for a second.”
“Meggy.”
“No.”
He shuts his closet door and drops to the floor in front of me. His dirty blonde hair flops into his eyes and he levels them on me, pleading with me silently. I shake my head.
“Braden Carter, you chose to take Maddie home for the weekend. You have to deal with – and field – your mom’s endless questions.”
“Meg,” he draws my name out, sounding like a petulant toddler begging for candy.
“It would happen sooner or later.” I shrug and sit up, tucking my legs under me. “You might as well get it over with now. Besides,” I grin, “I’m sure she’ll give the questions a break by telling her childhood stories.
“Fucking hell,” Braden grumbles and sighs. “At least I have comfort in the fact you were with me for most of my stupid moments. Hell, you probably caused most of them.”
“I so did not!” I pause, and he raises his eyebrows at me. Actually, there was that time I ran off with the ladder and left Braden stuck up a tree. We only had the ladder because we had to go to some work thing with our parents, and they didn’t want us to be covered in scrapes and grazes. Braden got cocky and thought he could jump – and he could, but not without breaking his arm. We never did get to the work thing … “Okay. At least a third were caused by me. Don’t go twisting it, because I will correct her when you come back.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” He stands and grins. A knock sounds at his door seconds before it’s pushed open.
Aston walks in shirtless, his jeans hanging low on his hips. Every inch of his body is exposed, from the curve of his biceps to the dip of his v muscle beneath his pants. My gaze flits over him, taking in his wet hair sticking up, and the small towel slung around his shoulders is almost an afterthought. His gray eyes interrupt my perusal of his body, and he smirks when he realizes.
“I’m starting to wonder if I’ll see you anywhere other than a guy’s bedroom,” he drawls.
“Just because you haven’t seen me in yours,” I reply, leaning back on my hands. “And I’d imagine that’s something you’re not used to.”
Braden looks to the ceiling and shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his face as if he’d rather be anywhere other than here.
“I don’t think you’d fit in in mine.” Aston leans against the doorframe. “It’s not up to the standards a pretty little rich girl is used to.”
“I can’t say fitting in with your bedroom is on my to-do list.” Even if the person is … “And pretty little rich girl I may be, but I’m not a snob.”
Aston snorts. “So if a guy from, say, a shit-riddled and utterly f**ked up background chatted you up, you wouldn’t run ten miles in the other direction?”
I stand, staring at him. “Just because someone’s past and upbringing is f**ked up doesn’t mean the person is, Aston. The way someone was brought up doesn’t define them as a person. Whatever perception you have of me, however stuck up you think I am – my upbringing doesn’t define the person I am now. I’m not as shallow as you’d like to think I am.”
He tilts his head to the side for a moment before his lips twitch up at one side. It’s a cocky, smug grin that tells me I walked right into his trap.
“Oh, it’s easy,” he says through his smile. “So, so easy. You’re a little ticking time bomb aren’t you, Megan?”
“Any reason you’re here?” Braden interjects before I can respond.
“Yeah. I need that English book.” Aston looks around.
“Which one? I’ve got more f**king English books than I have classes.”
“Shit, man, I dunno.” Aston shrugs. “The one from last class.”
I roll my eyes and perch on the edge of Braden’s bed. “The Shakespeare one.”
Both of them look at me blankly, Braden more so. Aston at least looks like he knows who Shakespeare is.
“You know, Bray. The guy who lived ‘years ago and can’t f**kin’ talk properly’.” I give Braden a pointed look, and his face breaks into a big grin.
“Oh, that guy. Yeah. I pretty much reworded Maddie’s work.” Braden turns to his desk and grabs the textbook. He shoves it in Aston’s direction.
“Cheers, dude.” Aston looks at me and winks, and I try not to roll my eyes again.
He’s so damn infuriating. He really does wind me up just 'cause he knows it’s easy, and he’s starting to learn that referring to me as “a little rich girl” is the easiest way to rile me. It’s not my fault I was born into an upper middle class family – Braden was too, and he doesn’t get the rich boy treatment.
Oh, that’s right. He doesn’t get it because eighty percent of the guys in this house are from the same background.
I reach down, grab my magazine from the floor and roll it up. I swing it in Braden’s direction, smacking his back with it.
“Ouch! What the f**k was that for?” He frowns at me.
“Thanks for backing me up, dickhead.”
“Hey – I shut him up.”
I scoff. “Only because you were getting annoyed that I and his bedroom were put in the same sentence.”
“At least I shut him up. Now you can tell Maddie what to say to my mom.”
Oh, I’ll tell her what to say alright.
I sigh, looking into his wide, pleading eyes, and shrug. “Fine, I’ll tell her what to say.”
~
“I think you were playing your own game all along.” Lila twirls a bit of hair around her finger.
My lips quirk behind the safety of my book, and I glance at her over the top of it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Megs. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“If I knew I wouldn’t have asked.”
She reaches over and tugs my book down, catching my smile before I can hide it again.
“See!” she exclaims. “You do know.”
“Okay, okay. So what if I was? It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”