Mercedes
WHY THE HELL WAS he making me so nervous?
Over the weeks, I had grown accustomed to feeling disgust and loathing whenever I was in Rourke’s’ presence, but this nervous anxiety I had pumping through my veins tonight? Not so much.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was dressed only in a pair of tight black boxer shorts and I had the best possible view of his tight as hell butt.
Or maybe it was him standing half naked in my bedroom that was causing me so many issues?
Either way, I was a nervous freaking wreck.
“Are you deaf?” Rourke demanded, snapping me out of my daydream. “Or did you really not hear a damn thing I’ve just said?”
I hadn’t been listening to him; I’d been too busy staring at him. Clearing my throat, I looked up at him and said, “Actually no. I wasn’t listening to you. I was too busy trying to work out what the hell you’re doing in my room.”
“You wanna get pissy with me?” He was staring at me, his blue eyes boring into mine with so much heat I could hardly stand the intensity. “Seriously?”
“What do you want, Rourke?” I was in no mood to fight with him tonight, especially when he was almost naked. It felt like he had some twisted advantage over me. Those cut muscles wielded a sick power over me and I was disgusted with myself for it. Goddamn, every part of that boy’s body was chiseled and hard.
“Dad called,” he reeled off impatiently. “He and your mother are spending the night in Tampa.” Shrugging, he added, “Wanted me to let you know.”
Tampa. I shifted onto my knees. “Why?”
Rourke glared at me. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
“Okay,” I bit out, choking down the sarcastic remark on the tip of my tongue. Asshole. “Why didn’t Mom call me herself?”
“Again,” he shot back flatly. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
“Fine.” I threw my hands up in defeat. “Whatever. You’ve told me, so you can leave now, Rourke.”
He didn’t leave.
Instead, he continued to stand in the doorway of my room, looking too freaking good to be true.
“What?” I snapped, feeling the blood rush to my face from his weighted stare.
Rourke tipped his head to one side, studying me. “What are you doing?”
I looked down at the scissors and newspaper clippings on my bed and shrugged. “I’m couponing.”
“Couponing?” Rourke raised a brow. “What the hell is couponing?”
I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. Rich prick. “It’s something us normal folk do,” I replied sweetly. “You know, in order to keep the wolves from the door.” When he continued to stand there, I grew impatient. “You can go now.”
Of course, he didn’t do that. Walking over to my bed, Rourke sank down on the edge and grabbed my folder of neatly organized clippings. “So, how does this work?”
“Why do you care?” I replied, confused.
He looked at me and offered me a rueful smile. “Just show me.”
Shaking my head, I exhaled an impatient sigh and swiped the folder out of his hands. “So, I usually dedicate one evening a week to clipping out coupons and organizing them in here.” My ears burned as I opened the folder and swiped through page after page of discounted offers. “I move the ones with the nearest expiration date to the front and then, when I’ve listed all the items Mom and I need or might need in the coming weeks, I compare the list to my coupons and work out the cheapest way I can get everything.”
“Why?” he repeated and it pissed me off.
“Because we’re not all born with a silver spoon in our mouths, Rourke,” I snapped.
“No,” he said gruffly. “Why do you do this?” He stared at me as he spoke, like I was a big puzzle he had to solve. “Why not leave it to your mother?”
I threw my head back and laughed harshly. “Trust me, if I left this to my Mom, we would have starved years ago.”
Rourke didn’t laugh.
He didn’t even crack a smile.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked, looking down at my folder with a frown. “Couponing?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged, uncomfortable. “Since I was eleven or twelve. Why?”
Rourke didn’t reply, but from the look of incredulity on his face, it was pretty obvious that he didn’t approve. He sat on my bed for another minute or so, staring down at my coupon folder before abruptly jerking to his feet and stalking out of my room.
“Goodnight to you, too,” I muttered under my breath. “Ass.”
Rourke
“HEY, DARYL? HAVE you ever heard of couponing?” I felt like a fucking tool asking my best friend that question, but ever since I walked in on Six the other day and saw her messing around with her coupon folder thingy, I’d been curious as hell.
“Don’t you have enough money?” Daryl shot back with a smirk, as we ran side by side down the sandy beach at the back of my house. “Like the TV show?” he added, noticing my serious expression.
I shook my head, maintaining the brisk pace. “Nah, man, like real life, living from a folder, couponing?”
He turned to face me and said, “Sissy?”
I nodded.
“Damn.” Daryl let out a whistle. “That’s rough.”
Tell me about it. “She said she’s been doing it since she was a kid, man.”
“She’s still doing it?” he asked, slowing to a jog.
I nodded.
“Maybe it’s a habit or something?” he offered.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“What about it? What does it matter to you if she’s fucking around with coupons anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter to me.” At least it shouldn’t…
Daryl grinned. “Sissy’s getting under your skin, aint she?”
“Nope.”
“You like her,” he pressed, chuckling. “Admit it, Dude.”
“Got nothing to admit,” I shot back coolly.
“You’re a terrible liar, man. Always have been.”
“She’s just another number to me.” I meant it. Soon enough, my father would move on to the next woman and Six would be a distant memory to me. “It’s temporary.”
“Sure, Rourke,” Daryl replied with a wink. “Whatever you say, man.”