I was strangely relieved to find the main floor empty after Jesse dropped me back at the house yesterday.
Finn wasn’t home.
Neither was Theo.
It was just Lexie and me.
I jumped at the chance to watch a cheesy movie on the living room flat-screen while the boys weren’t around to roast me. Then I crashed and didn’t leave my room again until this morning when I pulled myself out of bed to make breakfast.
“Please say there’s some for me.” Theo’s voice carries through the first floor, and I spin my head to see the tall basketball player dragging his feet to the kitchen.
He looks like shit.
His black hair is a tangled mess, his green eyes are rimmed with circles so dark I can see them from here, and his skin is pale, bordering on ghostly.
Someone had too much to drink last night.
I swallow a laugh, turning away from the omelet I’m cooking on the stove. “Damn, Theo, you look…”
“Good for a dead guy?” he finishes and plops down on one of the stools around the kitchen island.
I snicker and focus on flipping my omelet. “I was going to say under the weather.”
In response, he braces his elbows on the marble counter, links his fingers on top of his head, and lets out an irritated groan at what seems to be a killer headache.
“When did you end up rolling in last night?”
“Late.” He scoffs. “News flash: two hours of sleep? Definitely not enough.”
I laugh. “Must’ve been quite the rager, huh?”
“First party of the summer, you know how it is. If everyone’s not throwing up by the end of the night, what was the fucking point?” Theo pokes fun at the popular kids’ mentality, and I abstain from hounding him with questions.
The truth is, I don’t know how it is, and believe me, it’s not for lack of trying. I could never score an invite to one of these things.
Theo rubs his temples. “Finn was so fucked-up, he’s going to need a whole-ass liver transplant.”
Finn was at the party, too?
That would explain why he wasn’t home last night.
“Did he come home with you? I’d rather not have to tell my boss his son might be lying in a ditch somewhere.” I choke on my excuse. I’ll never admit it, but I’m curious. Hell, I’m even a little bit worried about his reckless ass.
Why. Do. I. Even. Care.
“Nah, he left with some girl in the middle of the party.”
Oh.
I don’t reply, grabbing a plate out of the kitchen cabinet and sliding my omelet onto it. I’ve barely settled down at the kitchen island with Theo before I catch him eyeing my food.
Next thing I know, I’mleaping off my stool and pulling out another plate and fork. Feeding these boys is becoming a ritual at this point.
“You can have half. That’s it,” I scold.
Theo’s eyes light up.
“Have I ever told you you’re my favorite house sitter?” He smirks, watching as I split the omelet with a fork and transfer it onto his plate.