My friends call me Rich.”
Shaking his hand, I returned his smile. “Brax.”
“Brax?” Loren mocked, wiping the smile from my face. His back was to me, but I could hear the sneer he undoubtedly wore as he fiddled with the coffee maker. It was all he seemed to do whenever I was in the room. “Is that supposed to make you sound cool?” Sensing that he’d won my attention, he peeked over his shoulder, and the look I gave him made him snort.
I decided right then and there.
I hated him the most.
“You can call me Braxton.”
His stormy gaze, the color of a starless sea, held mine. For a while, it seemed we were both caught in the whirlwind.
Unfortunately, he broke free of the spell first, and I cursed him for beating me to it.
“How about I call you brat instead?”
“I’ll up the ante—don’t talk to me at all.” Deliberately giving him my back, I faced the drummer with the genuine smile. “So, your name is Rich Noble?”
“Yup,” Loren answered despite me dismissing him. “He’s a pretentious little shit, isn’t he?”
I inhaled deeply, ready to give him a piece of mind when it occurred to me that Loren wasn’t being rude to be cruel. The wild thoughts flitting through my mind were my most insane yet—worthy of a trip to the looney bin. Still, they couldn’t be helped.
Was Loren trying to steal my attention from his friend? That would imply they were in competition and—
No. I wouldn’t go there.
Without turning around, I spoke to Loren while staring at Rich. “I thought we established that you and I had nothing more to say to each other?”
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he prowled on silent feet. By the time I realized he was on the move, it was already too late. Loren had me pinned between himself and Rich. “Bothered, Brax?”
The cool mint on his breath from his toothpaste wafted over my nape like a cool breeze. The small hairs stood on end while goose bumps spread over my skin. He was too damn close. It was all I could do not to drive my elbow into those abs he loved to flaunt. I bet he oiled them since he thought he was too pretty to break a sweat. Watching his interviews online always made me cringe and groan from second-hand embarrassment, yet I never missed a single one.
“We already know you’re hot,” Loren continued. “Is that why you blocked me on Instagram? I just thought I’d return the favor and offer some constructive criticism of your performance.”
Turning, I faced Loren, but I had to tip my head back to meet his eyes. He was that close. “I’m no more bothered by you than a fly when I swat it. You’re a mild inconvenience at best. Besides, there’s nothing constructive about you knowing the color of my underwear.”
“You think so?” Loren pressed in closer until I felt the barest brush of his lips against my forehead. If I still wore my heels, he’d undoubtedly be kissing me right now. “Because I think the ones that you’re wearing right now are black like your heart, Braxton Fawn.”
He was right. They were.
Against my will, I backed up a step only to trade one wall of fire for another.
Jericho.
I was trapped with nowhere to run.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
My head flew to the right, and I never thought I’d be happy to see Houston. That was until I realized his angry gaze was directed at me, and so was his question. Unbelievable.
“Just a little playful hazing,” Loren answered when I kept my mouth shut.
“This isn’t a frat,” I snapped, feeling flustered. Neither Loren nor Rich bothered to move even though Houston had crashed their little party. “And you’re not boys. You’re grown men.”
“You’re absolutely right, and I have the dick to prove it.” Running his thumb across my lip, Loren’s gaze roved my face. “Tell me you’re not interested,” he challenged. Behind the cocky assurance, I could see the small glimmer of hope that I’d say yes.
“In catching a venereal disease? Not a chance.” Feeling a familiar ache between my legs and the taste of cherries stronger than ever before, I pushed past him, and he let me. “Now, if one of you could be professional and point me to a bathroom, please?”
No one said a word or moved a muscle for several tense seconds. Finally, Houston decided. “When you hit the stairs, keep walking. There’s one on your right.”
I fled the kitchen without saying