TRAVIS

Goddammit.

The more she talks, the harder it becomes to hold my tongue. The moment I saw her with that piece-of-shit, Patrick, I immediately sobered up. Drew’s my best friend and he’d punch me in a heartbeat if he knew what happened. I know if I had a little sister, I'd expect him to watch out for her, too. (Minus the sultry dancing, of course).

Viola is a lot of things—a royal pain in my ass, a filthy smart-mouth, and a damn Goody Two-Shoes—but she's not a girl who recklessly gets wasted and agrees to go home with a guy she hardly knows. Even after all these years of giving her shit and her giving it right back, I'd never let her leave with a guy like Patrick.

As she leans her limp body against mine, I try to find the willpower to behave myself. She might annoy the shit out of me and grate on my nerves every chance she has, but I'm still a man. She looks fucking incredible tonight, hotter than I've ever seen her, and while on the dance floor, she was practically undressing me with her eyes.

“I sometimes don't hate you, Travis King,” she slurs, and then looks up to the sky.

“I guess I'll take that as a compliment.”

“You were so nice when I was little, but then you grew up and became a royal asshole.”

I roll my eyes, knowing she probably won't remember any of this in the morning.

“She okay?” The guy asks me, and I nod.

“Had too much to drink,” I explain. “She's my roommate for the next couple of weeks, and I wanted to make sure she got back home safely.”

“You're a good man,” he praises with a nod. “I've seen far too many dangerous things happen to women this late at night.”

I only purse my lips because if he knew the thoughts in my head right now he wouldn't be saying that to me. Viola Fisher may be off-limits, but that doesn't stop the way my mind and body react to her. As much as I love to drive her insane, I can't deny the way she's always made me feel, even when we were kids who knew nothing about love at all.

When we arrive to the house, I'm able to wake her long enough to get her inside. A rush of exhaustion hits, but I can't leave her alone.

“Travis...” she mumbles as I direct her down on the bed.

“What, Viola?” I kneel down beside her, slipping off her heels.

“Viola?” she repeats. “Ooh, so formal,” she says in a mocking tone, laughing to herself.

“Can you undress yourself?” I ask, hopeful.

“I'd rather you did...” She giggles.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling. “Viola...why did you drink so much?”

“To piss you off, and because I can.”

I press my lips in a firm line. “Put your arms up,” I demand. “You need to change out of this thing you call a dress.”

“Well, you wanted me to wear it,” she says matter-of-factly, her words slurring together. She finally raises her hands above her head and waits.

“I didn’t even know you were going out tonight.” The annoyance isn’t hidden in my tone. I brush my fingers along the bottom of her dress and pull it slowly over her hips, her waist, her chest, and then finally, over her arms and head.

“Why’d you take my clothes then?” She arches a brow as I toss her dress on the floor. She tilts her head, challenging a response.

I swallow. Removing her dress was a bad fucking idea.

She’s wearing a lacy bra and panties to match. I fight the urge to touch her and by the way she’s looking at me, I can see she’s fighting it, too.

“Not to mention, you only left me with thongs and my one lace bra.”

The corner of my lips tilt as I think about how pissed she probably was when she noticed. “Yeah, I’m only slightly regretting that right now.” Really regretting that decision.

“Oh, Travis King,” she drawls out, biting her lower lip. “You’ve seen me naked already, remember?”

Oh, I remember. It’s fucking burned in my brain.

“I mean, if you preferred to see me in sexy lingerie, all you had to do was ask.” Her eyes sparkle up at me and now I’m positive she’s not going to remember any of this in the morning.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. She’s seriously testing my self-control right now.

“I think you should get some sleep,” I say, directing her under the covers. “You’ll be feeling it in the morning.”

“Oh, Mr. Boss Man,” she mocks again, pouting her lips together.

“Viola...” I growl, pleading with her not to test me. “Get under the covers.”

“Are you going to make me? Because I wish you would.”

Fuck, I wish I had my phone with me, to record her saying that. This isn’t the Viola I’ve come to know. She’s spent the last decade hating me. I know her well, though, and she’ll hate me again once the alcohol wears off.

“What would you like, Viola? Tell me,” I challenge.

“Kiss me,” she says, her eyes looking up at me, pleading for me to do it.

I arch a brow, shocked she actually had the balls to say it. Part of me is tempted to kiss those lips and make her swallow her words, but the other part knows if I start, I may never be able to stop.

I grin down at her, tucking her in. She continues staring at me, as if she’s waiting. I lean down, letting my lips linger over hers. Her chest pumps up and down, her shallow breaths hits against my stubble.

“Princess...” I say just above a whisper, her back arching closer into me. “I don’t kiss virgins either.” My lips form into a cocky grin, knowing she’s about to scream at me.

Her blue eyes narrow and she pushes both hands against my chest. “Fuck you, Travis.”

There’s the Viola I know.

I lean off the bed and chuckle at her. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” I pull the covers up to her collarbone. “Get some sleep.”

“I bet you don’t have the balls to kiss me, Travis King. You’re all talk and no walk. Can’t say I’m really surprised. Disappointed, maybe, but—”

I cut her words off with my mouth, pressing my lips to hers and opening them with my tongue. I don’t wait for her permission; I take what I want, knowing it’s exactly what she wants.

She releases a deep, throaty moan and I catch it with my mouth, which only encourages me to continue. Her lips are warm and taste like the cranberry vodka she was drinking.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down on top of her. I feel the way she arches her hips up and meets me. The moment her lips touched mine, I was no longer in control, but I know I need to stop it.

Reluctantly, I release my lips from hers and push myself up. “Enough walk for you?” I ask, needing to reestablish the boundaries.

Her face goes pale and before I can ask her what’s wrong, she pulls the covers off and stumbles to the bathroom. A moment later, I hear her emptying her stomach.

“Viola!” I rush to her, finding her kneeling over the toilet, groaning. “Jesus.” I grab her hair in my fist and pull it back. I wait until she finishes and sits back, looking defeated.

“I’m going to try and not take that personally,” I say with a chuckle.

She narrows her eyes and glares up at me. “Hilarious, asshole.”

I stand up and grab the towel off the counter for her.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“That’s what they all say.”

She shoots me another look.

“C’mon.” I hold my hand out. “Back to bed.”

She stares at me a moment before giving in and taking my hand. My eyes roam down her body and she notices.

“Really? You’re going to ogle me after I just vomited in front of you?” Her stare is harsh; the Voila I know is coming back to surface.

I brush my free hand over my chin and flash a sly smirk. “Actually, I was contemplating on telling you that you had a little...something on your chest, but never mind, I’ll just let you sleep in vomit.”

She releases my hand and turns to look in the mirror above the sink. She grabs the towel and wipes it off, keeping her eyes locked on mine through the mirror.

“You should get some sleep,” I say. “And drink some water before you get dehydrated.”

She turns on the faucet and splashes some water on her face before glaring at me in the mirror. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

I want to say something about how she nearly left with some random guy at the bar and how she was barely conscious on the way home, but I bite my tongue and stare at her in rage before walking back out of the bathroom and heading back to my sheetless bed.

After grabbing an extra blanket from the closet and passing out, I wake up sometime around four a.m. to more noise coming from the bathroom.

Shit, Viola.

She’s hunched over the toilet again, her hair wild and sticking to her face and neck.

“Fucking hell, V.” I rush behind her, controlling her hair and rubbing a hand over her back. “When did you come back in here?”

“I never left.”

A deep growl escapes me at the thought of her damn stubbornness getting in the way of letting me help her back to bed. “You’re going to get dehydrated. I’m getting you some water.”

“No,” she barely croaks out. “Don’t leave me.” She lays her head down on the seat, her face white as a ghost.

“I’ll be right back. Promise.” I grab her a couple bottles of water from the fridge and hand her one as soon as I return. “Drink this.”

She shakes her head.

“Viola,” I say, harsher. “I said drink it.”

She takes it from me and begins drinking. “I feel like death.”

“Yeah, well that’s what happens when you drink and take shots all night.” I wrap a hand around my shoulder, squeezing my neck. “What the hell were you thinking anyway?”

She closes her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

After several silent moments, I pick her up off the floor and walk her back to her bed. My fingertips press against her bare skin, cool to the touch.

Once she’s covered up, I can’t bare to leave her alone again. I decide to grab an extra blanket from Drew’s closet and sleep next to her on the floor. Then just for good measure, I place a trash can next to the bed incase she gets sick again.

I smile and put my hands behind my head as I listen to her even breathing. I walk to my room, grab her clothes and put them back where I found them. I’m half-tempted to crawl in bed with her, but I lay back on the floor instead.

An hour later, I still haven’t been able to fall asleep. The memory of her lips on mine is still present in my mind, and I know when she wakes up, she’s going to have my head for kissing her.

––––––––

VIOLA

I’m dead.

Oh God. No, I can’t be dead because I feel fucking awful.

I manage to crack open my eyes and notice Travis is nowhere to be found. I have no idea what time it is, but I remember him being in here last night. At least, I think he was.

Shuffling around for my phone, I finally find it in my clutch on the floor. 11:18 AM.

I haven’t slept in this late since the last time I...oh shit. I grab the nearby trashcan and empty my stomach again.

Once I finally feel like I’m safe to sit up, memories of last night surface in my mind. I look down and realize I’m only in my bra and panties. And Travis King saw me in them.

Just great.

Then I remember the kiss and how his face hovered above mine.

Did that really happen? Maybe the alcohol and puking made me imagine the whole thing because there is no way I kissed him. If anything, I would’ve slapped him.

I mean, probably would’ve, anyway.

My fingers reach up and touch my lips. It all rushes back to me, and I definitely remember his mouth on mine. Soft, deep, intoxicating.

Fuck. I’m almost certain that kiss is going to ruin me more than him, but I can’t let him know that. How the hell am I supposed to handle him now? He’ll think he won.

And I’m not about to let him think that. Getting close to Travis is bad news. Nothing good could ever come out of it, especially letting him stomp on my heart again.

Needing a distraction, I decide to text Drew. Your roommate stripped me down to my bra and panties last night. Where’s the coffee?”

I smile as I hit ‘send’.

It flashes seconds later with his response. He’s a dead man. It’s in the cupboard above the sink.

I chuckle to myself, but soon realize it hurts my stomach to laugh. It’s completely empty and growling. I’ll need to face him sooner or later, I just wish it could be much, much later.

I finally manage to crawl out of bed and smile when I see my clothes, but I grab one of Drew’s long t-shirts to wear until I can take a shower. First, I need to eat something.

Peeking out the bedroom door, it’s completely silent in the house. Thank God. I step out into the hallway and make my way to the kitchen, searching for any sight of him. When it looks clear, I grab a granola bar and look for the coffee. Just as the coffee maker starts steaming, I hear him in the distance.

“VIOLA!” His voice makes me jump, but not enough to be scared. I conceal a smile as he storms into the kitchen.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please tell me you’ve experienced some kind of head trauma or something.”

“It’s possible.”

“Cut the shit.”

I still don’t face him. I’m not sure if I can, but then I remind myself we’re playing a game. I’m not going to make it that easy for him.

“Calm your tits, King.” I turn around and lock eyes with him. “I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet.”

“This shit ain’t worth it,” he mumbles before walking away. Good. Point for the away team.

After taking a shower and feeling slightly human again, I dress in my favorite pair of blue and green leggings and pair it with a red tank. I throw my wet hair up in a messy bun, grab my book, and curl up in bed for an official lazy Saturday.

Just when the Crown Prince meets Cinder, his Cinderella, I hear commotion in the hallway. I sit up, trying to listen for what the hell it is, and when I hear a woman moan, outside my door, my worst nightmare comes alive.

The click of his bedroom door is followed by a loud crash against the wall. More moaning. More banging against the wall. More noise.

Is he serious right now? He brought some chick back to the house in the middle of the afternoon?

Fucking bastard.

I shake my head, refusing to let it bother me. I put my nose back into my book, re-reading the last paragraph.

“Oh, Travis...yeah baby...” Yeah, baby? How original. She continues moaning and screaming his name while rocking the fucking walls.

I clench my jaw, knowing exactly what he’s trying to do. He’s spent the last decade getting under my skin. But no matter how much I hate him, there’s an undeniable chemical connection. Even if I acted on it, the way he shattered me and everything I believed in, will never be enough to fix all the years of torture and mutual hatred for one another.

Being the mature twenty-two year old that I am, I hook my iPhone up to Drew’s stereo system and blast the soundtrack to Mary Poppins through it. If that doesn’t make a hard on disappear, I’m not sure what will. However, he did say to turn music on to avoid hearing his sexcapades. So technically, I'm only following his directions.

I turn it up as loud as it’ll go, drowning out the noise of them next door.

The music works and soon I’m able to get back to my book where the Prince is surprised to find out Cinder is the best mechanic in the land. Figures. Laying back against my pillows, I nearly jump out of my skin when Travis blasts through my door, completely naked, and hard. He doesn’t look at me as he grabs my phone and begins messing with it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yell over the bass of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. “Get out!”

He ignores me, holding the phone above my head as he figures out how to shut the music off.

“I’ll just turn it back on,” I snip.

“Not if you don’t have it.” He turns and walks toward my door.

“Give it back,” I demand.

“No.” He walks out into the hallway and back into his room. I follow but am too late when he locks me out. Wait...is he fucking her up against the wall because his bed still has no sheets? Or to secretly taunt me?

Probably both.

But Travis has underestimated me once again. If he wants to break all the house rules and wall-bang a girl, fine.

Going into the kitchen, I grab a chair on my way and carry it with me. I grab a lighter from the junk drawer, a paper towel, and stand on top of the chair, directly under the smoke detector. They’re all connected and wired together throughout the whole house. If one goes off, they all go off.

I smile as I light the towel and wait for a small blaze, just enough to get it to smoke when I blow it out. I put it under the detector and wait for it to finally alarm.

As soon as it does, I jump off the chair and toss the towel in the sink. I hear footsteps coming down the hall and the girl is screaming at him to ‘turn that noise off’.

“Viola!” he yells, clearly pissed.

I sneak out of the kitchen and into the mudroom where he can’t see me.

“Goddammit, Viola.” I hear him mutter before the alarm stops. “Sorry babe. You should go.”

Yes, she fucking should.

A few minutes later, I hear the front door click shut, and I breathe out in relief. Except a new feeling overcomes me: fear. Travis is beyond pissed this time.

“Where the fuck are you?” he shouts.

I don’t answer.

“So, what? You can run off my date but can’t show your face?”

He’s right. I’m being a coward.

If I’m going to get even with him, I want to be able to see the look in his eyes.

I intentionally make some noise to grab his attention. Before I can brace myself, he’s in front of me in only the pair of jeans he was wearing yesterday, hunger in his eyes, his hands balled into fists.

We stand, facing one another, our eyes locked, neither of us moving. The only sound is our breathing, and before I can read him, he charges at me.