Melrose

“Sleep well last night?” I’m brushing my teeth in our shared bathroom, the door open, when I hear the shuffle of heavy feet making their way closer.

A moment later, a shirtless Sutter with the sexiest bed head I’ve ever seen stands in the doorway, resting his palm against the jamb.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he says.

“I’m sorry?” I play dumb, narrowing my gaze as I meet his in the mirror’s reflection. “Not sure what you’re referring to?”

“Meegan,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “You cock-blocked me.”

“Ohhh,” I say. “That.”

Sutter presses his back against the doorway before folding his arms. His face is etched in a hard scowl, and I wonder if he went to bed that way.

Probably.

“It was the least I could do after you sabotaged my date with Robert McCauley,” I say, dabbing my mouth on a towel and placing my toothbrush back in the cup. Squeezing past between Sutter and the doorway, I turn to face him when I reach the hall. “I told you, don’t mess with me, Sutter.”

“I wasn’t messing with you. I was saving you from making a huge mistake.”

“God, you must really think I’m dense,” I say. “I’m not falling for that. You didn’t do it out of the kindness of your heart because I’m not entirely convinced you have one. You didn’t save me. You were just trying to be a dick for some reason. I don’t know—you must get off on it or something.”

He stares at me, not saying a word. I don’t know if I’ve pissed him off or if he’s letting my words sink in and not responding because he knows I’m right. Either way, I couldn’t care less.

Turning, I head to my room, only as soon as I twist the doorknob, Sutter clears his throat.

“You really think sucking wrinkled dicks is what’s going to launch your career?” he asks.

Facing him, my mouth pulls down at the sides. “I’m going to do you a favor and pretend you didn’t just say that.”

He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Truth hurts.”

“The truth?” I release and incredulous laugh. “The truth is that I had a date and you sent him away because … I don’t know … because maybe you want to sleep with me? And you’re jealous that someone twice your age has more game than you do?”

Sutter smiles.

It’s a beautiful, perfect, arrogant smile, one that makes me momentarily forget how much I can’t stand him right now before swiftly remembering.

“Do you honestly think some sixty-year-old man wants to date you for any reason that isn’t related to sex?” he asks. “Do you honestly think his intentions are honorable? Or do you think he just wants some pretty little thing to show off to his friends? Some hot new starlet to take under his wing until he’s bored and ready for a new one?”

“He’s a well-respected man in the industry,” I say. “He’s got a great reputation and he’s always been nothing but courteous and respectful anytime I’ve been around him.”

Sutter slow claps. “Sounds like a real stand-up guy. I take back everything I said. It’s perfectly normal for guys like him to bag girls like you.”

“What the hell do you mean by girls like me?” I ask. I can’t tell if he’s insulting or complimenting me.

“Do I really have to explain that?” His palm slashes through the air.

I nod, waiting in silence.

“You know, girls like … girls that look like sex on legs,” he says.

“Sex on legs?” I echo his words. I’ve been called a lot of things but never that. “What does that even mean?”

His eyes skim above my head, like he’s trying to collect his thoughts, trying to find the right words to say to get him out of this corner he’s backed himself into.

“You think I’m sexy,” I say the words for him, since he appears to be struggling. Our gazes lock. “Unfortunately for you, I’d take a wrinkled dick over whatever you’re selling any day of the week.”

His jaw falls before curling into a smirk, and he drags his hand along his lower lip before saying, “Sweetheart, you’d be so lucky.”

I roll my eyes.

“Rejection is a jagged little pill,” I tell him, “but it goes down a lot easier when you try to convince yourself you never wanted it in the first place.”

With that, I leave him in the hall, slamming my bedroom door and twisting the lock, checking the knob to ensure that this one isn’t broken and he’s not going to be “accidentally” busting in here three point five seconds from now.

Taking a second to compose myself and wrap my head around that little fiery exchange, I locate my phone on the dresser and fire off a text to Nick with trembling hands.

ME: You owe me.

NICK: ???

ME: Your fucking roommate.

NICK: ???

NICK: Everything ok?

ME: Nope.

NICK: Mel … what’s going on?

ME: He’s obnoxious. Arrogant. Rude. Defiant. Disrespectful. Presumptive. Need me to go on because I can. I can keep this going.

NICK: Sutter?

ME: Yes! Who else?!

NICK: That doesn’t seem like him …

I don’t know what to say. Nick’s not one to play dumb and I know he wouldn’t have put me in this position had he known it’d turn out this way, but now I’m stuck.

NICK: Want me to talk to him?

Exhaling, I fire back an answer.

ME: No. I’m sorry. I just needed to vent. I’ll figure something out.

NICK: Did he hurt you?? Did something happen?? Now you’ve got me worried…

ME: No.

Sitting my phone aside, I bury my face in my hands, wondering if I overreacted, if I’m PMSing or extra irritable because of all these auditions that never seem to call me back lately, if I somehow brought this entire thing upon myself … but I don’t know.

NICK: Maybe you two should hang out and get to know each other? It hasn’t even been a week. He’s a really good guy, Mel. I promise. I don’t know where this is coming from. Give him another chance. If it gets worse, let me know, okay?

ME: <3

I dock my phone on its charger before peeling out of my pajamas and into some leggings and a tank top so I can go for a run and clear my head.

I’m not sure what planet Nick is living on these days, but the last thing I’d call Sutter is “a really good guy.”

Insufferable bastard? Yes.

Unbearable asshole? Hell yes.

Really good guy? Nope.

Nope, nope, nope.