Page 23 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

I don’t tell him that I was voluntold. I should be in bed right now, trying to get a full night’s sleep for fucking once. But here I am, playing hostess because my inconsiderate roommates want to impress the pretty boys next door.

The pretty boys who turned out to be my one-night stand and my older brother’s two best friends. One of whom I’ve had a crush on since I was a teenager, and the other I can’t fucking stand.

“Not everything requires your commentary, Reid. If you’re that desperate for attention, try having another breakdown.”

His smile drops—just for a second. Shit. That was too far. It’s not his fault he got addicted to pain pills after his career-ending injury. I’m about to apologize but before I can, I watch as his face hardens and I know he’s going to start going for blood.

“You’re a mess tonight,” he says. “But you’re always a mess, aren’t you, Lola?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

There’s no smirk now. Just that cold, flat tone he saves for when he’s done playing around.

“You walk around like everyone’s supposed to accommodate your drama. Newsflash, the world doesn’t revolve around Lola Hayes.”

“Go to hell, Reid.”

“Already there,” he mutters. “Thanks for the invite.”

“I’ve been preparing this dinner for over an hour,” I snap.

“Right,” he says. “Because nothing says sacrifice like dropping half the food and throwing a tantrum when someone offers to help.”

I take a step toward him. “You didn’t offer help. You came over here to poke at me until I cracked.”

“If poking’s all it takes, maybe the problem isn’t me.”

Jude makes a sound in his throat, but I don’t look at him. I can’t.

“What the hell is your deal?” I ask, voice rising. “Why are you even here if you hate being around me so much?”

Reid just scowls at me. “I came here to sleep with your roommate.”

“Right. That’s why you’ve dialed the asshole up to eleven ever since you realized I know your roommate.” I lean in closer so he’s the only one who can hear me. “Does it bother you that I’ve slept withyourroommate, Reid?”

His expression hardens.

Bingo.

“Wow,” I say. “There it is.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Please. You’ve been circling this grill like a pissed-off wasp since you got here. You don’t even care about the food.”

“Right. I definitely don’t care that you’re trying to feed me charred concrete.”

“I dropped one patty and it’s in the goddamn garbage! God, I cannot stand you. You think you’re better than everyone, but you’re just mean. And petty. And jealous.”

“Jealous?” He laughs again, this time louder. “Of what, exactly?”

I don’t answer. I’m too close to tears. And if I open my mouth again, I’m afraid I’ll scream or sob or both.

So I don’t.

I throw the spatula down. It hits the concrete with a sharp clatter. Then I turn, push through the stunned silence, and walk straight into the house without looking back.