“I’m not a virgin,” she hisses. She throws her hands up and spins around. “I don’t need to explain anything to you. Enjoy your lunch, asshole. I poisoned it.” She opens the door and stalks out, letting the door slam shut behind her.
I grab the bag and pull out a turkey club and a bag of chips. I analyze the food, knowing damn well she probably would poison me if she had the chance. Just to be safe, I stuff the sandwich back in the bag and grab the chips instead. At least I know she hasn’t tampered with that.
I can’t help the pleased grin that spreads across my face when I see she’s picked out barbecue-flavored baked chips for me. She knows barbecue chips are my favorite, even though she’ll deny it until the day she dies.
Yeah, that’s what happens when you’ve known a girl for most of your life. She shares DNA with Drew, who’s been my best friend since we were twelve. We grew up together, played on the same sport teams, and even lived across from each other. After our sophomore year of college, we moved out of the dorms. We now rent a house off campus together, where Viola is always lurking around. She’s hellbent on commenting on every aspect of my life, even though she’s the one that needs to get one.
Needless to say, Viola and I haven’t had a great relationship. Or a relationship period.
She hates my guts.
I don’t blame her entirely. But I don’t exactly adore her either. She’s the perfect little prude who thinks she knows everything just because she’s the class brainiac. She judges everything I do while being a complete cock tease. At least, I know how to walk the walk. I’d be surprised if she knew where her own g-spot is.
“King…” Blake steps into my office, his eyes lit up wide. “Who was that chick?” The corners of his lips are turned up in an excited grin. “She was hot!”
I roll my eyes. Viola is not hot.
Scarlett Johansson—porn star hot.
But Viola Fisher—gorgeous, stunning, absolutely breathtaking. Much more than hot. Even though she could afford to loosen her panties a little. Both figuratively and literally.
Even if she did bat an eyelash my way, Drew would kill me before he allowed me to touch his little sister.
“That’s my roommate’s little sister, Viola. She was just dropping off my lunch.”
His lips turn down. “Oh…you’re already hitting that, aren’t you?”
The top corner of my lip twists up and a small chuckle rolls off my tongue. “Uh, no. Not even close.”
His brows furrow. “Then why was she here bringing you food?”
“Because Drew’s my best friend and I’ve known them both since we were kids. He probably asked her to and when she told him to fuck off, he probably threatened to change the locks.”
I laugh. “Maybe. She secretly loves doing things for me.”
“You’re an arrogant dick, King.” He shakes his head as he aims for the door, but a small smile pulls at his lips.
“Arrogance is the key to success, James!” I holler back, but he’s already walking away and shaking his head at me.
Oh well…you can’t win everyone over.
You have got to be freaking kidding me!
I want to yell and flail my arms at the jaw-clenching task my brother has asked me to do.
Can you bring Travis a sandwich at work? He didn’t have time to eat during his break.
I roll my eyes at the message he sends me. A lame attempt to cover Travis’ ass. ‘Didn’t have time’…really? I wasn’t born yesterday.
However, Drew does so much for me that I have a hard time refusing him. As kids we weren’t super close, but as we grew older, he became much more than just my brother. He’s my best friend. As much as I want to tell him to tell Travis to fuck off, I don’t. Instead I reply back, Fine. But I’m putting rat poison in his mayo.
Whatever gives it flavor. I smile as I read his message. Drew knows I hate Travis. Not like, har-har-I-hate-you kind of hate, but like loathing, I’d-rather-eat-my-arm-off-than-be-near-you kind of hate.
But Travis is his best friend, so when he needs a favor, I usually get roped into helping somehow.
After throwing his lunch on his desk, I storm out of his office with a humph. I was three seconds away from slapping his stupid, I’m-so-hot grin right off his face.
He’s not hot, for the record.
He’s a fucking devil and gorgeous god all in one, and he knows it, too. With his sculpted six-pack, sleeve tattoos and stunning brown eyes, he’s the type that never has to work for anything.
He works out religiously and reminds me every time when he walks around the house shirtless. Aside from working out, his extracurricular activities include being naked and in between some bimbo’s legs. If only he cared about the girls he brings home the way he cared about his body, we’d be having a much different conversation.