Page 37 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

Just three lines to confirm that any hope I had of saving the studio is circling the drain. Rent is going up. Again. There’s no explanation and while I’m pretty sure it’s not legal to randomly raise it, there’s not much I can do about it. I don’t have the money to fight him, and I don’t have the money or the credit score to move somewhere new.

I close my eyes.

For a second, I think I might actually cry, but I don’t. Instead I just sit there, staring at the screen, trying to swallow the panic clawing its way up my throat.

This morning I lost my last instructor. This afternoon, I lost my last bit of financial wiggle room.

I don’t know how much more I can take.

Chapter 11

Reid

Lola Hayes is driving me insane.

That’s nothing new though. She’s been driving me insane for years now.

She makes every single interaction feel like a test I forgot to study for. She’s stubborn to the point of self-destruction, impossible to impress, and allergic to compliments unless they’re buried under sarcasm.

And still—I can’t stop thinking about her.

It used to be easier. She was just Wes’s younger sister. She may have been exquisitely beautiful, but she also had a sharp tongue she wielded like a weapon. Everything with her was always a competition.

I hated her.

Except I didn’t.

I wanted to kill her. Then I wanted to kiss her. Then I wanted to do them both at once, and that’s about when things got complicated.

I’ve had far too many thoughts about Lola over the years. They like to show up at night when the house is quiet and my body is too wired to sleep. Then somehow I end up with my hand in my pants and the image of her stuck in my mind.

She doesn’t know that, though.

And she never will.

Because that would give her more power, and she already has too much when it comes to me.

The day I walked onto the field for the San Diego Storm, I told myself I’d made it. Everything I’d worked for was right there—jersey with my name on it, cameras in my face, fans screaming my name. I was twenty-one, arrogant as hell, and convinced the world would fall at my feet. And for a while, it did.

Miles followed a year later to San Diego. He’d been scouting spaces for a West Coast HQ for his startup and decided this was the spot. Two years after that, the guy had a full-blown empire. Now he can’t go anywhere without someone asking for a podcast interview or begging him to fund their next app.

Wes came next. He just packed up his truck and moved across the country like it was the next logical step.

Even after my career went belly up, I stayed. It’s not like I had anywhere else to go. Wes and Miles are my family, and they were well established here by that point. Miles was gracious enough to pull me into his company, give me a reason to get up in the morning.

Lola went to college somewhere nearby, and with Wes already here, it made sense for her to stay, I guess. I’ve spent years actively ignoring the fact that she lives so close. Even when I was forced to be in her presence, I’d avoid her as best I could. She seemed fine with that arrangement. We’d nod, exchange one obligatory insult, then retreat back to our corners.

Until the damn BBQ, I hadn’t seen Lola in months. I figured she’d make a snide comment about asshole jocks, I’d fire something back about her compulsive need to follow my every move in life, and then we’d be done. Then I found out she slept with Jude.

That fucking sent me sideways. So I poked.

And she snapped.

And I poked again, too far this time.

Because that’s what I do. That’s whatwedo. We go too far, and then pretend we didn’t mean it. Ididn’tmean it. Any of it. I just wanted a reaction. I needed proof that I could still get under her skin.

It didn’t exactly go to plan. I acted like a butt hurt little bitch when I saw Jude go over to talk to her and I ended up hurting her. Lolaisa mess, no doubt about it. But she’s a beautiful mess.