“Come on! We need to talk about this.”
“Talk to someone who gives a shit.” Resolutely, I put my phone in the speaker dock, blasting bouncy pop music that I knew would irritate the hell out of him.
After a minute, the knocking on the door stopped and I figured he had retreated to get away from the bubbly sultriness of Britney Spears. I could practically hear the sound of him popping open a beer, which is what I knew he would do. I had gotten to know Riley over the past week. Or so I’d thought. Okay, I could see that it might be weird to hear about me and Tyler at that particular moment, but what was he expecting? There was no purity ring on my finger, and what I did prior to him was no one’s business but mine.
I could have lied about it. But I had wanted to be totally honest with him and what had that gotten me?
Sitting on Easton’s bed, back against the wall, I bit my fingernail and hated on men and their goddamn double standards. When the glass of the window suddenly rose, I jumped. Riley’s head appeared in the open space.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, getting up to turn down the music. “Are you insane?”
He shoved the window completely up. “You wouldn’t open the door,” he said, like that was some kind of explanation. “We’re not done with this conversation.”
“Oh, I’m done.” But I watched in fascination as he yanked out the screen and it disappeared behind him, and then threw his arms over the window frame and started to haul his body into the bedroom window. “What are you standing on?” That window was a good eight feet off the ground.
“The picnic table.”
I refused to think this was hot. It wasn’t. Or if it was, it still didn’t change the fact that he was a jerk. It didn’t matter that having a guy break into my bedroom to force me to talk to him was sexy, in a masculine, brutish kind of way.
He was too big for the window. He got halfway in and then he looked wedged, arms and head in, shoulders caught. There was a distinct sound of cotton tearing as his shirt caught on the aluminum frame. Served him right.
“A little help here,” he said. “I’m stuck.”
Help? Yeah, I could help him. So I shoved him. He barely moved, but he got my intent.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“I’m helping you out of the window,” I said, and shoved him again, harder this time, and he went backward, his shoulder finally free of the window frame. “That’s what you asked for.” Because it felt so good to get out my frustration, I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed a third time.
“Knock if off, Jess,” he warned, as he grappled to hold on, losing his balance, his feet hitting the picnic table.
“Or what?” I pushed him yet again, high on the sensation of being in control after he’d made me feel so lousy.
His eyes narrowed, and I could hear the scraping of his boots on the house, could see the white of his knuckles as he tried to pull himself back up and not fall on his ass on the picnic table. At least his shoulders weren’t stuck anymore. He should be grateful.
He didn’t precisely answer the question, which was a point for him. Instead of threatening me, he simply said, “I’m not backing down until you talk to me.”
“What?” I asked, cupping my hand to my ear. “I can’t hear you over the flapping sound of my loose vagina.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and he almost laughed. “Is that what that noise is?” he asked. “I thought it was the air conditioner.”
Ha ha. “You’re a prick.” I picked up a magazine, determined to ignore him. Flipping through it, I tried to get invested in the many sexy ways Selena Gomez styled her hair, but I was too distracted by Riley dangling from the windowsill.
“I’m coming in whether you like it or not,” he told me. “Now you can open your door for me or I can rip the window frame out and climb in this way. The choice is yours.”
I thought about it and decided I had a perfect solution. Without a word, I got up and went over to the door to the hallway and unlocked and opened it.
“Good,” he said, sounding surprised. “Great. I’ll be there in a second.”
Listening, I heard his boots hit the back patio, then heard him open the back door and come into the kitchen. At that point I got back up and closed my door again and relocked it.
A second later he realized I had tricked him. “Jessica! Damn it!” His fist hit the door.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. It was entertaining to get the best of him. “Yes?”
Then he did something that I wasn’t prepared for. He said, “Please open the door. I really would like the chance to apologize to you face-to-face.”
Crap. How could I continue being petty if he was going to be reasonable? It was a surefire way to ruin my ability to snark. With a sigh, I went to the door yet again and pulled it open. “Yes?” I asked, leaning on the door. “I’m very busy reading about sexy summer hairstyles.”
He gave me a sly smile. “You have sexy summer hair.” His fingers reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear.
Seducing me was not going to work. Well, it was working a little, but he still had some explaining to do. I just gave him a stony stare.
Riley dropped his hand. “I’m sorry about the comment I made. I didn’t mean to suggest that you . . . well, anyway, I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“Yes, you were.” Then because I didn’t hold grudges, I said, “Apology accepted.”
He nodded. “Thanks.” Then he looked at his hand. And the floor. And behind my shoulder.
I waited, curious what brilliance was going to come out of his mouth next.
“I said that, not because I think you’re a slut, but because well, I was upset that you had sex with my brother.”
My eyebrows raised and I crossed my arms over my chest, the glossy fashion magazine still in my hands. “I caught on to that, yes.”
“But you don’t get it, do you?” he asked.
“No, not really.”
“Think of this way. What if I told you I had sex with your sister?”
“I don’t have a sister.”
He made a sound of impatience. “You know what I mean. Okay, say that you found out today when we were fooling around that I had sex with Kylie last year. How would you feel about that?”
A stab of jealousy pierced my chest and I asked, before I could stop myself, “Did you?”
“Ha, exactly,” he said in triumph. “No, I did not have sex with Kylie, but your first reaction was one of anger. You didn’t want to think that I did, because the truth is, none of us want to think that someone we care about has been naked with someone we’re attracted to. Picture me with Kylie. How does it make you feel?”
I had an active imagination. Before I could put the brakes on it, an image of Riley over my roommate rose in my brain. He was enthusiastically giving her oral sex. It was a visual I could have done without. “Okay, I get it. Yes, I would be upset. Pissed.”
“It just really caught me off guard,” he said. “And the whole penis piercing thing . . .” He actually shuddered. “Disgusting. It’s all messing with my head, making me jealous.”
Begrudgingly, I loosened the death grip on my magazine. “Fine. But you took it a step too far. You didn’t say the word ‘slut,’ but you definitely implied it loud and clear. I mean, sloppy? Ouch.” I wanted him to understand where I was coming from. “I don’t need to be judged, Riley. I’ve had my parents judging my morality my whole life and I don’t have the patience for it.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I was being an asshole. But I don’t get it. Why would you and Tyler have sex? It’s not like you ever had feelings for each other.” Then he grimaced. “Or did you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “The thing is, a lot of guys and girls are attracted to each other on some level. But that’s not the same as being attracted to them, if you know what I mean.”