He laughs again. “You called me dummy. That’s cute.”
No, you are. Fucker. Even acting like a moron thanks to the drugs, he manages to be irresistible. Maybe it’s because he’s not acting like an ass now.
“You should take my jeans off too.”
Heat spreads through my cheeks. “Not going to happen.”
I unfurl from my crouch, meeting Troy’s gaze. He has a lopsided grin on his face, which matches his up-to-no-good stare.
“Are you afraid you won’t be able to resist me once you see what I’m packing?”
“Please. You think too much of yourself.”
Before he can see the truth in my eyes, I escape to the kitchen. Hopefully, he’ll fall asleep after his belly is full and stop tormenting me with his flirtatious comments.
My appetite is gone thanks to the knots of worry in my belly. Troy is acting carefree now because he’s as high as a kite, but tomorrow will be another story. Maybe he’ll kick me out, and I’ll have no one to blame but me.
Knowing I can’t eat right this second, I only make one sandwich. When I return to my bedroom, Troy is fast asleep. Okay then. I set the plate on my nightstand, then go take care of the chickens that are still loose in his room.
The place reeks of bird shit, making me wrinkle my nose. I’m definitely not eating anything tonight.
Getting the chickens back into their cages takes forever, but the worst part is definitely the cleanup.
Why did I agree to Ben’s idea?
Since I’m not calling Fred to collect the birds now, I bring them all to the living room. We never made arrangements for after the prank, but the chickens have to be returned to the farm, obviously.
I feel disgusting, so I head back to my room to shower. Troy is still out to the world, but I don’t want to risk waking him up. I cross my room on my tiptoes and then turn on the bathroom light, keeping the door open only a sliver. In the semidarkness, I quickly grab a change of clothes, then lock myself in the bathroom.
A quick glimpse at the mirror makes me wince. I look dreadful. My hair is hard and matted thanks to the dried whipped cream, and today’s stress has given me dark circles under my eyes. I take my time in the shower, washing my hair twice. A sweet strawberry scent wafts from the bottle, and yet I can still smell chicken poop. Yuck.
I’ve almost reached pruny state when I finally step out of the stall. The bathroom is warm and foggy like a sauna. I brush my hair and teeth first before I put on my clothes.
“Wait. Where are the pajama bottoms?” I glance at the clothes I grabbed.
Crap. I took two T-shirts instead of a T-shirt and a pair of pants. At least I didn’t forget my underwear.
The T-shirt is long enough and covers my butt, so I head back into my room like that.
“Charlie?” Troy calls from the bed.
Ugh. Of course he would wake up to witness me prancing around without pants on.
“What are you doing up? Go back to sleep.”
He sits up instead, turning on the nightstand light. “What are you doing, skulking in the dark?”
“I wasn’t skulking,” I grit out.
“I’m really uncomfortable. Can you please help me out of my jeans?”
With a sigh, I head over to the bed. I wouldn’t want to sleep wearing jeans either. “Fine. Just promise you won’t make stupid comments.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
I roll my eyes. “Please.” Focusing on my irritation and not that I’m about to see Troy in his underwear, I unzip his jeans and try to get them off. “You have to help me. Lift your butt.”
He does as I said, but even so, it’s hard to remove someone’s pants when they’re sitting down. I force my gaze away from his crotch, but my eyes have a will of their own. They stray, giving me a glimpse of his package.
Shit. It’s as big as I suspected.
“See something you like?” he asks in a dangerous tone.
“You wish.”
I finally get his jeans off, but Troy doesn’t do anything to cover himself. I fold his pants and set them on the chair by my desk, knowing I have to escape soon.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you fix my pillow, please?”
With a groan, I glance at the ceiling. “Really, Troy? Now you’re just milking it.”
“I’m not. I’m in agony, and it’s your fault. The least you can do is—”