Page 99 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

He steps in front of me. “What’s going on with you? Are you angry about something?”

“No. I just want to eat and get to work.”

He takes the carton of eggs from me and sets it on the counter. “Something happened. You were fine at the party last night and then you left and everything changed.”

“Nothing changed. I was just tired.”

“Trina, I know you’re lying. Just tell me the truth.”

I glance behind him at the hall that goes to his room. “Is she here?”

“Who?”

“Bridget.”

His brows draw together. “Why would Bridget be here?”

Instead of answering him, I open a cupboard and take out a bowl.

“Hey.” Scott grabs the bowl from me and sets it next to the eggs. “What does Bridget have to do with anything?”

I look to the side, not wanting to talk about last night. It’s over, and I shouldn’t be angry. Scott has every right to be with Bridget.

“Wait, did you think something happened?” he asks.

“We don’t need to talk about this. It’s none of my business.” I open the carton of eggs. “How many do you want?”

“Forget the eggs.” He turns me toward him. “Is that why you left? Because you saw me with Bridget?”

I don’t answer him.

“Nothing happened. I told you, I’m not with her that way anymore.”

“Okay.” I force out a smile. “Can we make breakfast now?”

He sighs. “Would you stop pretending nothing’s wrong and just tell me what’s bothering you?”

Why did I come over here? I should’ve stayed in bed. Or gone for a walk. Got a coffee. Anything to avoid having this conversation.

“If it’s not Bridget,” he says, “what is it? Why are you acting like you hate me again?”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t know why you can be with all these other girls, but not me.”

“What other girls? I haven’t been with anyone since I met you.”

“Really?” I huff. “Did you forget about the girl I saw coming out of your room last night?”

“That was Anna. She’s an interior designer. She was in my bedroom because she’s going to pick out new blinds for my windows. I hired her. I’m not sleeping with her.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling embarrassed. “Well, how would I know she’s your interior designer?”

“Maybe try asking instead assuming you know what’s going on?”

“Yeah, fine. Forget I said anything. Can we make breakfast now?”

“Not until we talk about what you said.”

“We don’t need to,” I say, looking away.

---