In the darkness, I shifted my weight, trying to find a patch of fabric that didn't feel like it had hosted a frat party in 2020. The fitted sheet refused to stay fitted. The flat sheet smelled like expired cologne. The pillow had two settings – swampy or scratchy, both with a fresh side of sweat.
From the kitchenette, the fridge groaned like it was dying a slow, painful death. The sound wasn't new, but that didn't mean I liked it. I turned on my side and glared in its general direction. "Relax, will ya?"
Shit.If I was smart, I'd take my own advice. I'd ignore the sound, shut my eyes, and will myself to sleep. Right on cue, the fridge let out a clunk that rattled the floorboards and made me sit up to look. I called out, "Oh, fuck off."
The fridge paused, then groaned again, louder this time.
Asshole.
Relaxation wouldn't come easy in a place like this.
I flopped onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. In the darkness, there was nothing to see. Hell, there was nothing Iwantedto see. I'd already gotten a good eyeful of those water stains and a light fixture so ugly, it had to be a joke.
The real punchline?There was no switch near the bed. No lamp either. Instead, I'd been using a surprisingly nice flashlight that Ryder had thrown into the duffel for reasons that I didn't want to contemplate.
He'd also packed a few toiletries and maybe a week's worth of clothes – nothing fancy, but enough to get me by until I gave up or found a laundromat.
I was still staring upward when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.Correction – the floor.
Therewasno nightstand.
I reached down and fumbled for the phone. I pulled it close and punched in the code. When I saw the text, I let out a fridge-like groan and a few curses, too.
The text was from Ryder.
Of course.
As I read the words, I could practically hear his voice, smug and satisfied, like he was already gloating with popcorn in hand."Having fun yet?"
Yeah, fun like a root canal.I punched out a reply."Loads."
His reply came a few seconds later."That's the spirit. Only 30 days to go!"Even in text, I could see the smirk.
The fucker.
He thought I'd be giving up.
That wasn't gonna happen. I texted back,"Not quitting. Try again."
This time, his reply was instant."Challenge accepted."
I frowned in the darkness.What the fuck did that mean?
Knowing Ryder, it meant nothing. It was just more trash talk to throw me off my game. The problem was, Ihadno game. But I knew one thing for damn sure. I wasn't gonna spend the whole month in this shithole.
Sure, maybe I'd have to sleep here, but during the day? Well, that was another story, wasn't it? Muttering a few choice words, I tossed aside the phone. It hit the floor with a thud that set off another groan from the fridge.
When I shifted on the bed, the springs jabbed me in the back like I owed them money. I shifted to the left, then to the right, then to the left again. Still, I found no sweet spot.
Back in Chicago, my bed was three times the size and a hundred times more comfortable. My sheets were soft, my mattress was firm, and my fridge was quiet – not that it mattered. It's not like I slept with the damned thing.
At home, the fridge was located on the other side of the penthouse and stocked with everything a guy could want. For some reason, my thoughts drifted to the girl on the dock. She'd been sweet and pretty – a rare combination, some might say.
I scoffed in the darkness. More likely, the combo came with a hidden catch, like a pet ferret or a boyfriend in jail.
Ferret or no ferret, I'd been an asshole.
No denyingthat.
