Page 47 of Shattered Dreams

“Think you might want to help me clean this shithole up?” I asked, gesturing to the mess. “You live here too.”

He pursed his lips.

“I didn't invite your friends over,” he said. “And I took care of washing my own glass, so...”

With that, he turned and shut himself in his room.

I stared at the closed door for far too long, dumbfounded.

What a spoiled brat! How the hell could anyone be such a dick?

I got more and more angry as I cleaned the place until it was practically sparkling. I muttered under my breath while I took the garbage down to the bins downstairs and I was still fuming while I made myself an oven-ready pizza for dinner.

Jonas emerged again then; he heated up some leftovers and went to the sparkling clean living room to watch TV and enjoy my hard work.

I was fucking furious.

I marched into the living room with my pizza and accidentally sat down far too close to him—because I wanted to annoy him, but he didn't seem to mind, silently eating his food while he watched his show. Something about an unsolved murder that completely turned my stomach.

Feeling deflated, I pushed half of my pizza away and sat there, stomach-churning, wondering for the millionth time what his problem with me was.

I glanced over at him. He had a little freckle on his cheekbone. I'd never noticed that before.

“Why do you always stare at me?”

The question, said just under his breath, made me freeze. Fuck, I'd been caught. And it obviously wasn't the first time.

He glanced over at me and when our eyes met, his gaze was filled with hot anger.

“You're always fucking staring.”

I swallowed because what the hell was I supposed to say? That he was surprisingly cute and the only man that I had ever seen that way? As a prospect.

“Just wondering what your problem is with me?” I finally managed and my annoyance with him came back tenfold. “Seriously, what the hell is it? Did I do something?”

His gaze hardened.

“You're abrasive,” he said coldly. “And loud. And what difference does it make?”

“Abrasive?” I demanded. “I'm abrasive? At least I try to be nice.”

“Well, don't bother,” he snapped. “I'm not going to like you.”

I didn't know what to say.

“Why did you even move in with me?” I finally asked.

“Just to do my brother a favour,” he said firmly.

I swallowed, stood up, and went to my room without a word.

For a long time, I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the show Jonas was watching in the other room, then eventually, to the sound of him turning it off and going to his room.

With the apartment so quiet, I could hear him fiddling around with something and then getting into bed.

I felt numb over what he'd said. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel, but people didn't normally tell you to your face when they didn't like you. And I couldn't help but feel like there was more to it. Like it was personal.

The way he'd glared at me had felt so intentional, like I'd done something to offend him, but... what? I couldn't think of a single thing.