Page 17 of Roan

“Who is that chick?” I hear Tiller ask, referring to the maid beside me. I smile at her; she smiles back. I have no interest in her, but I find it entertaining the way the conversations here haven’t changed much since I’ve been gone.

“The maid. She’s been our maid for like two years,” Shade tells him. “How do you not remember? You took her virginity a week after she was hired.”

Instantly my heart races and I get that familiar pain in my chest. I haven’t forgotten about him and Ophelia. In fact, I haven’t forgotten her. You might be wondering if I’ve kept in touch. Somewhat. She distanced herself completely after she left in August and I can’t say I blame her. I fucking hate it, but I can’t blame her, she’s fully emerged herself into college life.

It’s torture.

Tiller snorts, unfazed by Shade telling him he fucked the maid. He doesn’t give a shit. “I thought Scarlet was the maid.”

“No, she’s Willa’s assistant,” Shade points out, as if Tiller cares. “And she’smygirlfriend.”

“She’ll get bored with you soon.”

“The fuck she will. Don’t touch her.”

See what I mean? Nothing changes around here.

Scarlet enters the kitchen, smiles briefly at me and scowls at Shade. “Dude, you have to commit to sexting once you start. You can’t just quit right after I send you a picture of my asshole. Seriously, come on. I feel like there’s a picture of my ass on Instagram right now.”

Tiller tries to steal his phone.

He slaps his hand away. “Mind ya biness.”

“Her pussy’s been stretched out. I’m no longer interested.”

Scarlet sneers at him. “Everything that comes out of your mouth makes me want to hit you in the sac.”

I laugh. It’s funny. Shade and Scarlet disappear, and I’m left with Tiller and Camden in the kitchen.

Camden smiles at Tiller, his idol for reasons we try daily to convince him are not healthy. “Why would she show him her asshole?”

“Go ask her. I bet she’ll tell you.” Tiller glances at him. “Where’s your mom at today?”

“Stepmom,” he clarifies with distinct annoyance. I can relate. I’ve met her. A stepmom is a nice way of addressing that haggard bitch. “And she’s probably shopping. I don’t know. I hate her.”

He leaves after that, as does the maid, and it’s Tiller and me, alone. I hand over the bacon I’d been cooking.

He gives it a look of “Did he poison it?” but finishes his cereal, then reaches for the bacon. “When did you get back?”

“Last night.”

“What’s wrong with you two?” a girl passing through the kitchen asks, gesturing to the ever-present hostility in the air when Tiller and I are in the same room.

Tiller doesn’t look up, and it’s me who gives an answer. “Tiller knows why,” I spit, dumping the remnants of the coffee in my cup.

“Actually, I don’t.” Tiller folds his arms over his chest, dark eyes locked on mine. To anyone else, he’d be considered scary. To me, he’s always going to be that scared little boy asking to sleep in my bed with me for a year after our dad died. Sure, he was only five, but still. “Please elaborate.”

I lean into the counter, my hands on the stone, wishing I could rip it off the cabinets and smash it over his head. “You fucked my girl.” I hold grudges. For a long time. Probably forever.

Tiller groans, tosses his head back with annoyance. “You need to stop this bullshit. Your girl chose me to pop her cherry. Big fuckin’ deal.”

I don’t buy his excuse for a second. And I just might fucking kill him. Take the frying pan behind me and smash it upside his head. I’m not entirely sure what’s stopping me. “She was drunk. She didn’tchoose you. You’re not special. You were justthere,” I growl. As you can see, time didn’t do anything to cool us off. I eye him sharply until he looks away.

“Which is more than I can say for you.” He smiles, tapping his chin. “What was that chick’s name? You remember, the one you fucked and the reasonwhyO got drunk that night with me?”

He’s not wrong, but he also couldn’t be further from the truth if he tried. “Oh spare me the fucking bullshit excuses as to what could possibly make it okay for you to fuck my girl. You took her upstairs to your room when she passed out. Who does that?”

“A decent human being?” He raises his eyebrows in overblown innocence. “And she wasn’t passed out. Yet. Her eyes were still open.”

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