Since Jase swindled his way into my house, I’ve managed to steer clear of him and even the Stepmonster almost entirely these past seven days. Sure, my schedule is a bit fucked up—like going for my morning run before five o’clock and leaving for work by seven (despite not starting until ten)—but it’s worth it to keep my sanity in check.
Sadly, I’m not so lucky on Day Eight.
I finish doing my hair and unplug my flatiron, exiting the bathroom momentarily to slip into my work uniform, a.k.a. a basic pair of black shorts and a matching t-shirt with Castelli’s logo printed across the chest.
When I return to the bathroom, I head back in front of the sink and grab my mascara, only registering a second too late that the water to the shower is turned on.
I look up into the mirror and—
“Holy shit!”I whirl around to find Jase sans clothes, save for boxer briefs that he’s also peeling off, giving me a glimpse of more than I wished to see.“What the hell are you doing?”
Jase doesn’t look bothered in the least, casually nodding down at himself and over to the shower, like that’s answer enough.
When I’ve left at seven every morning this week, the jackass’s bedroom door has always remained closed. Yet, it’s only a quarter after six, and he just so happens to be up?
I’m not buying it.
Challenging him on that very fact doesn’t get me anywhere, however, because he just lifts his hands up in defense, feigning innocence. “My apologies. No one was in here, so I safely assumed the bathroom was unoccupied.”
“Oh, and the fact that the light was alreadyonwasn’t a hint? Not to mention that there’smusicplaying?” I deadpan, cutting off the song in question as I grab my phone.
In typical Jase fashion, he just smirks at this. “Not sure if you noticed, but your sister has a rather bad habit of leaving pretty much every light on in every room she walks in and out of.”
Say what now?
“And I assumed the music was connected with the house’s sound system, because Sia was already playing from Vanessa’s room when I walked past,” he adds.
On this…he isn’t wrong. I heard “Unstoppable” playing earlier, which inspired my current playlist.
Jase makes no effort to put his clothes back on or shut off the water. He just lounges there, leaning against the wall with the grace and predatory stillness I’d best associate with a lion. “You tired yet?”
The question takes me off-guard, leaving me with the highly intelligible retort of, “…Huh?”
“With all the sneaking around,” he clarifies.
I’m pretty sure I’m preprogrammed to fight with him, because—like an idiot—I do just that. “I’mnot‘sneaking.’”
Jase’s left eyebrow quirks up just enough to issue a silent challenge.
“I prefer the term ‘circumventing assholes.’”
He smirks. “You could always tryconfrontingthese people. Who knows? One of them might surprise you.”
Jase always had muscle, but the definition in them now makes it clear he could easily snap my spine in half if he so chose. Still, I level the jackass with a flat look as I eye him up and down, like I’m unimpressed. “Well, bless your heart, Rivers, but I know a lost cause when I see one. And I’m not interested in wasting my time.”
His expression darkens, and for a second, a flicker of something akin to hurt flashes across his face. The way I practically sneered his last name might have something to do with it. Does he think I meant the comment in the way Blythe would? That he holds no value simply because of his social status?
I’m tempted to clarify the statement but immediately think better of it. Why should I care if he took it the wrong way? The guy is a raging asshole who made my life a living hell. If the worst thing I do to him is bruise his ego, he’s getting off easy.
Jase has the audacity to look at me likeI’mthe unreasonable one here, suggesting that we should “finally clear the air.”
“And I suggest you should go fuck yourself.” I return to the mirror and go about my business, pretending like he’s not even here as I apply the last of my makeup. Well, at least until he comes to stand behind me, bracing both hands on the counter beside my hips, effectively blocking me in.
“I don’t recall you being so feisty.” The smile that greets me in the mirror is enough to raise my hackles, but my brain bypasses any logic to treat him like the threat he is, evidently flipping my bitch switch.
No way in hell is this prick going to intimidate me.
“And I don’t recall you being this dumb,” I counter. “How about you read the room? Or the house? Or the town? Take the hint, dickhead. Nobody wants you here. And trust me when I say whatever grand scheme you have to annoy or embarrass me has already been outdone, by a long shot, so you’re wasting your breath.”
