Page 72 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

“Stop fucking typing so loud.”

My hands freeze before I slowly turn my head toward this douche.

He’s not even paying attention to me. Eyes glued to his desktop as he pulls on a small plait in the middle of his head.

“Your hair is stupid.”

He cuts his eyes to me briefly. “You’re just mad because my hair is longer than yours. Chickenhead.”

“Ya mama,” I blurt, cursing myself inwardly. But when he narrows his eyes at me, I just stick my tongue out at him unapologetically.

Rico smirks. “Her hair was longer than yours, too, powderhead.”

I slam my laptop shut. “I don’t have to listen to this. We can go back to ignoring each other. In fact, I can pack my shit and go back home.”

“You ain’t going nowhere,” he taunts, waving me off.

Shooting out of my seat, I twirl around, trying to find anything to get me out of this damn room.

I grin victoriously when I see what’s on the mantel.

Stomping over, I reach up and grab the antique looking rifle off the display.

Rico stands, but I’m already aiming at the doorknob.

“Snow–”

I pull the trigger, squealing that it’s actually loaded and that it actually blew the doorknob off the door.

Dropping the rifle, I curve my hand over the new hole and pull the door open.

Before I can take a step, I’m whirled around, but I’m ready, smacking Rico dead in his face.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say SHIT!” I mush him again, then rush out of the office to my room.

Rico’s at the door before I can close it, pushing into the room. He closes and locks the door behind him.

“Get out!” I shriek, tears lining my lids. “God, I swear I hate you.”

Rico just leans against the door, peering at me with those dead eyes of his.

“You hate me, Snow?”

“That’s what I said. I fucking hate you.” I fold my arms, hugging myself as I glare at him as mean and ugly as I can.

Rico pushes himself off the wall, taking slow steps toward me. “Is that right?”

“Yes! I hate your rude, sassy ass.”

My eyes track him until our feet nearly touch. I stare him down, even if I’m looking up at him. His eyes dance between mine, and I’m so focused on trying to seem upset, that I gasp when I feel his hand curl around my jaw.

My eyes stretch immediately.

He pulls gently, lifting and angling my head as he leans down until we’re breathing the same air.

“You hate me, Snow?”

I unfold my arms to wrap my hands around his arm. I can smell the mint gum he likes to chew during our morning workouts. It mingles with remnants of his cologne, cocoa butter, and hair products.