Page 50 of Detour

I tsk, “Don’t be jealous. Looks like you’ve got someone taking care of you already.”

Coty wraps his hand around my middle possessively and barks, “Close the door, jackass.” This only spurs Beckett on further which almost knocks both him and the girl clear over.

He murmurs something about needing to find himself a nurse before resuming his extreme make-out session.

Grimacing, I continue into the living room to find Coty’s other roommate with a girl on his lap and another at his side, both peppering him with kisses. Marc looks up to Coty briefly.

Those boys have their fun lined up for the night. The thought that Coty might still find his has me bristling as I reach for the door handle.

Past the threshold, I say, “It looks like you guys have your hands all full. Have fun with that.”

Coty’s eyebrows furrow. “What does that mean?”

“Your roommates are taken care of for tonight. You better get back in there so you’re not left out.”

I hate the bite to my words revealing the jealousy that’s sunk its claws into me, refusing to let up.

Coty breaks into a knowing smile and leans back, shouting, “Party’s over! If your face, or any other part of your body, isn’t attached to Beck or Marc, get out.”

Groans erupt but people begin filing out just the same. My mouth opens and closes like a stupid fish in what I’m sure is a very impressive parting gift for the guests as they pass.

“’Night, neighbor girl. See you Sunday,” the sexy jerk says before winking.

I lift a hand stiffly, then flee into my studio.

Coty’s proving to be a more worthy counterpart than I originally thought. Why does he have to live next door though?

CHAPTER 19

Angela

A n overtly annoying ringtone, my annoying ringtone, wakes me the next morning. Last night took a toll on my lightweight head. I grab my phone off the small bedside table, wincing at the pain the small movement causes. Seeing another UNKNOWN caller, I curse. A press of a button and the device goes gloriously silent.

Just as my eyelids start to grow heavy, an insistent knocking startles me. It’s unlike any other knocking I’ve ever heard. It sounds like it’s from a song actually. A Britney Spears’ song to be exact, circa 2000-and-late.

Grumbling across the room, I throw open the door only to find a takeout bag held up in front of my face.

I snatch it out of the abnormally large hand holding it and scowl.

“Stop bringing me food.” On my way back to bed, I toss the bag on the counter, mumbling, “I can buy my own breakfast,” then fall face first onto the sheets I kicked off last night. I was overheated after the bathroom incident and couldn’t handle anything touching my skin. Anything other than Coty’s hands that is. Or mouth.

I can’t hide the smirk playing at my lips as I turn my head to the side, watching Beckett as he follows.

“Hey,” he says, offended, grabbing the bag back. He pulls out a sugary doughnut, then proceeds to eat the whole thing in two bites. Mouth smacking obnoxiously, his eyes scan my studio. The couple steps it takes him and his massive legs to reach my bed is about how long it takes to check out my apartment so it works out perfectly.

I glance over his freshly showered appearance as he sits against my headboard beside me. He’s dressed for work in dark blue mechanic pants and a stained white shirt with holes scattered throughout.

“How are you feelin’ today?” I ask, breaking the awkward silence. “I would’ve thought you’d still be in bed.” I try to wiggle my eyebrows but one is smashed against the bed so I give up, letting my suggestive tone do the heavy hinting instead.

“Ha! I don’t let chicks stay over. They can play all they want but they gotta leave me never wanting more. Of anything,” he adds, using his own indicative tone.

No suggestion needed, I scold, “You’re a pig.”

Mock horror covering his face, he scoots down to tickle me. Within an embarrassing amount of time, I’m laughing to the point of tears and screaming, “mercy,” but the jerk shows none. Beckett continues his ruthless attack, so bringing my foot up between us, I kick him square in the stomach with all my strength. Wide eyed, he falls off the bed with a giant thud. Wiping my eyes, I poke my head over the side, nervous he might’ve left a Beckett-sized hole in my floor when he fell through to the apartment below. That would totally kill my chance of getting my deposit back. Fortunately, I find him lying on his back with his hands folded over his chest.

“Marry me.”

I roll my eyes and drop a pillow on his face.