Page 2 of IOU

I tear away from Taylor’s glare and rifle through the cabinet for a pitcher. I find one I bought when Taylor and I threw a spring break party last year. It has cute little watermelons on the side that reminds me of happier days.

I scoff.

Those days are over.

Taylor and I are over.

Tucker and I are over.

Hell, screw the whole complex. Havemeyer University can suck a big fat dick for all I care.

I snatch the pitcher from the cabinet, and to be petty, I slash at the plastic wear alongside it, sending it all down to the floor. Kicking the containers out of my way, I fill the pitcher with water before traipsing over to Tucker, who has pulled the curtains down and is attempting to smother the fire with the throw blanket he was probably fucking on.

My earlier fury bubbles to the surface, and I pull back and slosh the water over the curtains and Tucker, who is still naked.

“Dammit, Ainsley! Is your aim that bad tonight?”

My aim has always been poor. I’m not known for my throwing skills, but had I known twenty minutes ago I would be sent home early from my shift at Studs and Spuds, I would have practiced a little in the parking lot before I came in.

I was in a good mood, dammit!

Nothing felt better than knowing I had a few free hours to soak in the tub and play Who Wants to Be a Millionaire on my iPad. But I had to come home and find Tucker ass up, humping my roommate in the middle of the coziest mound of blankets, surrounded by my candles. It looked like I had walked into a ritual sacrifice: moans and jerky movements combined with Taylor speaking in tongues. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was witnessing until Taylor said, “Oh, God, Tucker. Harder.” That’s when all chaos broke loose.

I gasped.

Taylor screamed.

Tucker sprang from the floor with a noteworthy litheness.

I was the epitome of calm after that. I merely dropped my purse, grabbed one of the candles they were burning, and hurled it as hard as I could at Tucker. I was aiming for his balls, which I missed, but I think we can all agree I was upset and deserve a pass on that mistake.

The water, however, I purposely doused on his ass.

“Screw you, Tucker!”

Okay, so my vocabulary has not been vast in all of this. But what can you say to the two people who you were supposed to trust? They betrayed me, and—A loud knock breaks our heated stare. I mouth, “I hate you,” at the bastard before going to the door and swinging it open. The smoke detector is still going off, so I’m not at all surprised to see the three firefighters standing in the doorway.

“We received a call about a fire.”

I don’t even bother explaining. I simply step aside and allow the firemen to address the remaining few sparks that Tucker hasn’t been able to put out. I should have known he couldn’t finish off anything but himself—selfish asswipe.

The firemen push through the apartment and spray Taylor’s curtains with the fire extinguisher before turning off the alarm and filling the space around us with silence.

Well, it was silent for a minute. But rest assured, Frank, the landlord in all his terry-cloth glory, remedies that quickly. “What the hell happened in here?” He looks at Tucker—who has grabbed a blanket—before swinging his gaze to Taylor, who is now covered too.

How nice of them to finally show some decency.

“Taylor,” he barks. “What is going on here?”

Frank isn’t the easiest landlord to deal with, but I imagine when you own an apartment complex that mainly rents to college students, you don’t have the luxury of being a nice guy.

Taylor narrows her eyes at me. “She tried to kill us, Mr. Frank!” Tears fall from her smudged face. “She lost it and tried to burn us alive!”

Now she decides to be dramatic.

I roll my eyes and address Frank. “It was an accident. I knocked over a candle.”

Taylor wails, and Tucker wraps his arm around her, shushing her with a sweetness I’ve never seen from him.

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