“He wouldn’t put me in this position,” she says. “He wouldn’t ask me to live with someone if he thought we wouldn’t get along.”
“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did?” I shrug, like it’s not my problem, and it isn’t. “I’ve always gone by the assumption that everybody lies and everybody’s in it for themselves. Life’s much less disappointing that way.”
“I don’t lie.”
“Bullshit,” I cough. “Everybody lies. And if they say they don’t, they’re lying.”
“I disagree, but okay.” She rolls her eyes at me and blows a breath between her lips. My gaze lingers on her distracting bee-stung pout once more. Everything about her exterior is flawless—from her creamy complexion and curled lashes to her shiny blonde waves and tight little ass, and if I’ve learned anything in my ripe old age of twenty-eight, it’s that perfect on the outside almost always equates to ugly, crazy, and dysfunctional on the inside.
I should know.
My last ex was the same way, just took a bit longer to crack through her ironclad veneer to get to the core of who she really was: an insecure, superficial Bel-Air princess parading around like some vegan philanthropist with an organic vagina.
“Do you always have a giant stick up your ass or did I catch you on an off day?” I ask, genuinely curious but fully prepared not to give a damn either way.
“What are you doing?” Her brows meet and her dog paws at her leg. Clearly, he’s over this conversation. “Are you testing me? Trying to feel me out? See how far you can push me before I push back?”
Close … but not quite.
“I think I did the same thing once … when I was a toddler,” she adds.
“Ouch.” I head to the stairs, feigning an emotional wound. “You done now? Can I go take my shower?”
“Just because I’m nice, doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I read people, Sutter. And I can read you. I know exactly what you’re trying to do, and I highly advise you to stop.”
I rub my hand across my chest, chuckling. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
Melrose’s lips form a hard line. “Nope. Just telling you to knock it off.”
“Knock what off? Exactly?”
“Whatever it is you’re trying to do,” she says. “Because I can promise you, it’s not going to work on me. I have thick skin and patience for days.”
I’m beginning to wonder if I underestimated her. All this time, I assumed she’d be some typical Brentwood Basic Bitch with zero personality, sky-high ambition, and dungeon-level self-esteem.
But … now I’m thinking there might be more to her than meets the eye.
“So …” Her manicured brows rise and she steps toward me, levelling her body, her posture mirroring the confidence of a queen. “How about we start over?”
“What?”
Extending her right hand, a slow smile claims her pretty face. “Hi, Sutter. I’m Melrose, your new roommate. It’s so wonderful to meet you.”
I don’t know if she’s trolling me or if she genuinely wants to start over—she could be acting for all I know, but I don’t think that’s how this works.
Regardless, I play along. I refuse to be bested at a game I personally started.
“Melrose, so lovely to meet you. Nicholas thinks the world of you. I’m sure I’ll adore you just the same,” I say in an over-the-top, saccharine-sweet voice as I meet her hand with mine.
Two can play this game.
“Much better.” She exhales as if she’s partially satisfied before reaching toward a luggage handle.
I fully expected to meet a Bel-Air princess today, a junior Paris Hilton with an entitlement complex. What I got was a whip smart beauty who wasted no time putting me in my place.
And that’s … if I’m being completely honest with myself … really fucking hot.
NICK OWES ME.
He owes me big.
And next time I see him, I’m going to tell him just that. I’m going to rub it in his face.
He’s lucky I’m a woman of my word or I’d probably be wheeling my bags right on out of here.
Heading to Nick’s room—my room—I unzip my first suitcase and try to locate an empty drawer or a section of closet space to call my own. I didn’t bring much … yet … just the necessities. Clothes. Shoes. Toiletries. Post-Its and gel pens for miscellaneous notes and reminders.
Everything else I own is still at the guesthouse in Brentwood and with Nick’s furniture still being here, it’s not like I needed to bring more than the basics.
Plus, I didn’t want to overdo it on the off chance Nick’s roommate was a total creep. I’ll do anything for Nick—but I won’t spend the next six months with some weirdo just so he can save a few thousand bucks on rent.
If I get so much as an inkling that Sutter’s videotaping me in the shower or stealing my panties, I’m out. There’s a limit to what I’ll tolerate even for the people I love most in this world.