Tristan glares at his best friend and stands up. But he doesn't look even a little bit embarrassed. He just shrugs and saunters over to his spot on the couch with the same cocky smirk he had on his face a few minutes ago.
We watch in anxious silence as our friend Joe appears on the TV screen. It's Tuesday night and we're watching an MMA reality show where fighters compete for a contract in the UFC: the biggest MMA organization in the world. Philly is finally starting to make its mark in the sport, which is why we were all so excited to hear Joe got the call to be on the show.
None of us say a word throughout the entire fight. Jax is definitely the closest to Joe, so I know he's concerned for his friend's success. The guys at the gym like to joke that watching each other fight is actually worse than the nerves of their own fights. Which seems absolutely bizarre to me, though I know it's true because I see how they all act with each other.
I can tell Tristan is watching the fight from a fighter's point of view. He's analyzing the strategy, the style, everything that makes the big leagues different from the local circuit he's currently running in. Being undefeated and the champion in one of the local organizations, it's no secret that he's eagerly waiting for his call from the UFC. He gets closer with each victory but for now, he continues to study the televised fights.
Joe ends up submitting his opponent in the third round with a chokehold. It's a great fight, and we all breathe an audible sigh of relief.
"Thank God," Jax mutters. "The gym would've sucked tomorrow with a loss hanging in the air." He yawns, then turns to us. "Okay, I'm going to bed. I grabbed an early flight tomorrow, so I'll be gone by the time you two wake up. Remy, I'll try not to be too loud in the morning."
I snort, both of us knowing there are very few things in this world that can wake me from a dead sleep.
Jax takes turns glaring at Tristan and I. "Okay, then I will say this one time and one time only." He points an angry finger at us. "I love you both, and I really,reallydon't want to come home to a funeral, or the house in pieces. Neither would make me happy. So, if you could somehow find it in your hearts to keep the soul-piercing barbs to a minimum, that would be great." He smiles, the look of a scolding parent now gone. "Other than that, enjoy your time together."
I roll my eyes, knowing that is the opposite of what I'll be doing while I’m here. I glare at Tristan, conveying my displeasure with my eyes. I nudge him angrily with my foot.
"Get up, I want to go to sleep," I growl at him. Since Jax is still here tonight I decided I’m going to sleep on the couch, which means I need Tristan to leave. "And don't you dare try any stupid pranks while I'm out in the open like this because I swear to god, I will make your life a living hell for the next week and a half."
He lets loose a bark of laughter but stands up anyway. "I'm not sure why you think I'm going to abide by your made-up rules in my own damn house, Remy," he says, shaking his head.
"Oh, dear god," Jax mutters, rubbing his eyes. "This was the worst idea ever." With a final glare in our direction, he says, "Don't make me regret this."
He starts up the stairs, Tristan right behind him, when Tristan turns around to wink at me. "Goodnight, Remy baby."
I launch a pillow at his head. "Goddamnit, stop calling me that!" I shriek. He chuckles and disappears up the stairs.
I settle back on the couch with an angry huff. Pulling the blanket up to my chin, I think about how I'm probably going to be throwing a lot of pillows for the next ten days.
5
Remy
The next morning, I wake up to a quiet house. Jax is already gone, and Tristan is probably at the gym. I smile and stretch my arms over my head, happy to have the house to myself for an hour before work. Sitting down with a cup of coffee and a good book is my own form of morning meditation. I glance excitedly at the espresso machine sitting on the kitchen counter.
I swing my feet off the couch—and freeze.
There is whipped cream all over the floor.
There is whipped creamall over the floor.
There iswhipped cream all over my feet.
A red haze begins to cloud my vision. I know in an instant that Tristan did this. He actuallyprankedme.
I grab a pillow and scream into it.
I stand up but fall right back down when I slip on the slick floor. The red haze grows.
I stand again, carefully, and take a few tentative steps toward the kitchen. There's so much whipped cream on my feet that I leave several slippery footprints behind me. I'm seething by the time I reach the paper towels on the counter.
I quickly wipe the whipped cream off my feet. I grab the whole roll of paper towels and set to cleaning up the trail I left, then eventually the origin of the mess. It takes several minutes and several sheets of paper before the evidence of Tristan's prank is gone. I grab the mop to get rid of any remaining residue on the floors.
By the time I'm finished cleaning, I've already planned out Tristan's murder in my head. I grab my phone to compose a text.
Remy: You know, I would've bet money that you'd at least make it to day five. Who knew I'd have to off you the very first day.
My phone lights up with a text reply almost instantly.