Alley-Oops I Think I'm Falling in Love (With the Wrong Guy)

[48] Slumber Party

Maggie sighed admiringly, "This is a nice bicep you got here—great pillow. You work out?"

Roscoe chuckled, turning his attention towards her.

"Yeah... shout out to your sister." He said, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. I made a face—I had absolutely nothing to do with the size of his muscles.

"She told me my arms looked like jellyfish tentacles." He said ruefully, shaking his head as if the memory pained him. "I haven't been the same since."

I wrinkled my nose at him, but guilt dusted my cheekbones. Technically, yes, I did tell him that, but only after he'd badgered me for an hour about how weak I was in the post.

Maggie pinched her lips, suppressing a smirk.

"Sounds like she's the perfect woman for you then." She said. He fidgeted, seeming surprised at her lack of sympathy. "She's always pushing you to be better."

I sucked in a breath, shooting her a warning look.

Apparently, my ho bag little sister had slept through all our talks about the social hierarchy—Roscoe was a prince, I was a pauper. She couldn't make jokes like that, it was insulting for him and mortifying for me.

Roscoe furrowed his brow thoughtfully, then looked down at me.

"You're right, Maggie." He said simply, with none of his usual icy bravado. He didn't even hesitate. "She is perfect."

My heart seized in my chest.

Nope.

There was no way Roscoe Tate—THE BIGGEST  HATER ON THE PLANET—would ever agree to that. He'd vomit on the words before he'd say them out loud.

Roscoe's golden eyes flicked over me, boldly at the proclamation, but timidly once our eyes met. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears and my skin grew hot.

Roscoe repelled timidity like oil repels water, it was antithetical to his nature. Why would he look at me like that? He wouldn't. Except, he was. There was a tenderness to his gaze that wasn't unfamiliar, but it was unexpected.

I could see Maggie's eyes bulging gleefully in my periphery. I cleared my throat, feeling unsettled.

"... perfect at seeing through your bull shit, maybe." I grumbled, trying to play it off.

Maggie's green eyes rolled back—like it was killing her to hold her tongue. She pushed impatiently to her elbows.

"If you guys are going to start making out, just wait until I fall asleep, please." She announced. It was so out of pocket that Roscoe and I both gawked at her.

A lopsided grin split Roscoe's face, his tawny skin slightly flushed.

I was going to kill her.

"Well damn." Roscoe hissed with a laugh. He sat up too, his triceps dancing as he hoisted himself up. "Tell me more."

"Do not!" I insisted, staring daggers at my little sister. Maggie was a turncoat who could not be trusted right now. She hesitated, biting her lip—she wanted to save me from myself, but this was not the way.

"Okay, now you gotta tell me." He pressed, turning on that snake charmer hypnotism. I could see her wavering.

Maggie turned her eyes to me and it felt like she was bidding me farewell, about to step overboard in an act of self sacrifice.

"Okay somebody has to say it—" She blurted, throwing her hands up. I bared my teeth at her, the air catching in my lungs. I didn't know what she was going to say, but I knew it wouldn't be good. "This tension..." She gestured vaguely at the air between us, "So thick. Like, suffocating. Trash talk is like your guys' foreplay, I swear. Just end it, put us all out of our misery."