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Rowdy popped open the second tray containing his food and promptly sat to begin stuffing his face without even a thank you. “Where’s my drink?” he demanded without looking up.
It was only then I realized I was still holding it.
I walked the two steps over to his desk and set it down.
“Thanks,” he surprised me by saying. I exhaled when I spotted the steam still curling from his fried catfish and turned to leave. “Hold the fuck up.”
Fuck. Are you kidding me? I’d been so close.
I gripped the door knob a little tighter. Could I get away with pretending I hadn’t heard him?
Probably not.
Left with no other choice, I sucked it up and faced the room. “Yes?”
“Come here.”
I pursed my lips before obeying. I hated him and myself for every step that brought me closer. Once I was standing in front of his desk again, I watched Rowdy take a testing sip of the Arnold Palmer and then another before calmly holding it out to me. “Does this taste like what I asked for?”
“How should I know? It’s your drink.”
“Taste it.”
I could feel all four sets of eyes on me as I debated my next move.
No one was less surprised than me when I slowly reached for the cup. A private thrill chased down my spine at the thought of my lips touching where his had been. My gaze was firmly fixed on the styrofoam as I took the cup from him, but the moment our fingers brushed, my eyes locked with his green ones, and my pussy begged me for just a taste.
Rowdy licked his lips as if he knew, but for once, he didn’t say anything. Was it because we weren’t alone? He had fuck boy written all over him, but I could have sworn that was a territorial gleam I glimpsed in his eyes.
“Uh…do you two want us to leave?” Roc nosily blurted.
“Now, Atlas,” Rowdy ordered while ignoring his friend.
I brought the straw to my lips and sipped.
The sweetness of the tea and the slight tang of lemonade flooded my taste buds, and I almost cringed at what tasted like nothing but sugar.
It was then I remembered.
Rowdy had asked forunsweetenedtea and I’d given him sweetened. I was pretty sure I’d gotten the measurements wrong too, but it was partially his fault for being so fussy in the first place.
I slowly set the cup down but said nothing.
“Now, either you can’t follow simple directions,” he snapped, “or Tuesday fucked up, in which case, her day is about to go to hell. Which is it, Atlas?”
I recalled Demi’s warning not to get on the Kings’ bad side, but that didn’t mean I was ruthless enough to throw Tuesday under the bus to save my own ass.
“I fucked up,” I admitted to the quiet room.
“Apparently, our talk this morning wasn’t enough for you to shape the fuck up, so tell me, Atlas…what will it take?” I just barely stopped my lips from curling as Rowdy sat back in his chair, looking smug. “What should I do about your inability to do what I tell you?”
I almost did it.
I almost turned to beseech Roc for help—maybe even turn them on each other—but Roc and Rowdy had been friends longer than I’d been alive. My plan could backfire, and then it would be four against one instead of me and Rowdy at each other’s throats in this private war of ours.
I was on my own.
“I don’t know what youshoulddo,” I said to Rowdy, “but youcouldact like a grown-up and get over it.”
