I'VE OFFICIALLY HIT rock bottom.

My hard work and countless sleepless nights of working three jobs to make ends meet have gone down the drain. Now I've been taken in as a fucking charity case by my arch-enemy. Now, this is yet another thing he can use against me and hold over my head.

I haven't seen him in three years since we graduated, and a part of me is thankful for that. As soon as he opened that door and my eyes strayed to the gray sweatpants, I wanted to shake myself until my brain rattled against my head to knock some damn sense into it. Finding Everett attractive was not okay. The man hated me. I've done nothing to him, but he couldn't stand being around me when I started dating Liam. At first, I thought he assumed I'd taken his best friend away from him, but whatever grudge he created against me that day, he'd never let it go.

Letting out a sigh, I twiddle my thumbs around in my lap as I sit atop the plain, black comforter. It's been two hours since I arrived here, but I've been too chicken to explore the rest of the townhouse. It's nicer than any place I've ever lived, let alone stepped foot in. Even the mattress feels too wealthy to sit on. It was made of pure memory foam—my body groaned in delight as soon as I laid down on it.

But I know I can't hide in here forever. After all, my belongings only fit into two duffel bags, so it couldn't take that long to unpack. I'm going to have to face the music at some point.

Heaving a sigh, I quietly open the door and pop my head out, looking left and right to inspect the hallway—no signs of Everett, just random black-and-white art pieces strung on the walls.

Maybe he left. Perhaps I'll get lucky and be able to avoid him for the rest of the night. Curling up in bed with a good book sounds more than delightful, but I have to make sure he isn't here first. Despite my pride, I need to thank him for allowing me to stay here. No matter how much he pisses me off, I won't be ungrateful.

I've never been one to have good luck, though. That's why Everett is in the kitchen, rattling together different pots and pans, an aroma of tomato sauce and garlic hitting my nostrils. I ran out of groceries a week ago and lived off peanut butter sandwiches until I got the eviction notice. The smell of pasta is enough to give me an orgasm.

His back faces me as he swirls a wooden spoon around a pot of what I'm assuming to be sauce. Just the figure of his body is intimidating. The man could have followed in his father's footsteps and had a career in football if he wanted, but Everett was dead set against playing a sport. Still, he was always in the gym. He wasn't jacked by any means but was muscular and tall. So tall.

Almost as if he can sense my presence, I watch the broad shoulders underneath his white t-shirt stiffen. He glances over his shoulder, those blue eyes locking on mine. "You hungry?" He grunts.

I'm not used to his kindness. First, he brought the bags to my room and is now cooking dinner for me. Granted, these are everyday things to do for a guest, but Everett has never gone out of his way for me. He's avoided me every chance he got.

"Yes, please. Thank you." I cautiously sit at the kitchen island on one of the barstools, watching as he uses tongs to put the pasta into two bowls, shakes some parmesan cheese on top, and places it in front of me.

I eye it heavily, not putting it past him to put bugs or poison in it, but I'm too hungry not to eat, so I'll take my chances.

As soon as that first bite of pasta and sauce hits my tongue, I moan from the taste, Everett's eyes darting up to mine. He turns his back on me to face the stove again, muttering something under his breath that I can't hear as he puts the leftovers away, his steaming bowl of pasta still on the counter beside him. Of course, he'd rather wait to eat than sit next to me. I'm not surprised.

"This is so good," I say.

"It's just boxed pasta and canned sauce," he replies, but his voice is strained.

Is it that hard for him to speak to me?

"Still. After a week of peanut butter sandwiches, this tastes like heaven."

His body stills, but he doesn't reply. Instead, I eat my pasta silently as he washes the dishes in the sink. When he's finished, he takes the container of leftover pasta and tongs and fills my bowl again for seconds. His eyes never meet mine, but his jaw is clenched, and his knuckles are white on the container.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Fine," he grunts. "Just eat."

I nod and begin to twirl more pasta around my fork. "I promise I won't be here long. Once I find a higher-paying job, I can pay off my debt and be on my way."

"Are you still going to school for fashion design?" He rests against the counter and begins to eat, refusing to take another step closer.

He remembered that?

"Yeah. I'm on scholarship and all, so it's not like it's another bill. It's my main focus. But since it doesn't cover the cost of room and board and I was living in a rinky-dink apartment on the other side of town, I lost one of my jobs. They didn't like my availability."

"One?" He asks.

"Yeah. I was working three jobs to make it by, but then I lost one, and in the process of trying to find another, my bills kept racking up, and it was impossible to recover. Thus the reason I got evicted, and thus the reason I'm here." My eyes burn from the tears threatening to escape, but I refuse to let them fall in front of him. I refuse to give him even more leverage than he already has. "Thank you for allowing me to stay here, Everett. We haven't always gotten along, but I'll try to be on my best behavior despite..."

He arches a brow, willing me to continue.

"Despite how insufferable you can be at times," I finish.

He scoffs. "What a way to say thank you. The insufferable one has always been you, Emery, not me."

"Oh? Enlighten me how then." I set my fork down in defiance, and although it's the beginning of a fight, it makes me let out a breath of fresh air. This is how I remembered him, and it's a sense of normalcy. I don't want him to treat me like a charity case and sympathize with me. I want him to treat me the same, and a part of me is thankful when he narrows his eyes and takes a step closer to the island.

"Where do I even begin? You're loud, obnoxious, smart-mouthed, stubborn, way too cheerful..." He puts down one finger at a time as he reviews his list of my flaws. "Careless, too prideful, too—"

"Because all those things are so much worse than your personality traits?" I hop off the barstool and stomp over to invade his personal space and the stupid fucking barrier he's always put up, digging a finger into his chest. "You're a miserable, arrogant, cranky, short-tempered, irritable old bear. You might as well be ninety living alone, yelling at little kids to get their ball out of your yard."

He grabs my wrist to take my finger off his chest, gripping it tightly. It leaves a lingering scorching sensation over the flesh, so I tug my wrist free, becoming short of breath from the pure hatred radiating from his eyes. "You know nothing about me, Emery, and if it weren't for Liam, you wouldn't even be staying here."

The blow hits me hard, but I shake it off. "You know what? I don't even know why this was ever a good idea in the first place. I would rather live in a fucking homeless shelter than be around you and your doom-and-gloom personality. Give me an hour to pack my bags, and I'm getting the fuck out of here."

He grabs my wrist again when I try to walk away, whirling me around until I land against his chest. The rigid wall of muscle causes me to gulp, and we're both panting heavily, trying to calm ourselves down. We always seem to get ourselves worked up like this. It never fails. That's what hating each other will do.

"You are not leaving," he mutters hoarsely. "You need a roof over your head and food to eat, and I refuse to let you suffer on your own eating peanut butter sandwiches for a week because you're too fucking prideful to ask for help." He inhales sharply, almost as if he didn't mean to say that. "For Liam," he says. "I'm doing it for Liam. Now finish your fucking pasta and go to sleep, Emery."

Leaving me speechless, he takes a giant step away from me and hauls ass up the staircase, slamming the door shut to his room behind him.

Author's Note:

THE TENSION.

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