Chapter 5 - Life is unfair

WILL'S POV

"You two are insane!" Byron shouted, actually sounding pretty scary ... didn't we know him, even Al and I would be frightened. He's got this thing, when he gets mad he becomes even bigger than he already is, kinda like bears, and with that enraged look on his face, he'd make kids piss themselves.

Right now, he was yelling at us because of that little thing we planned on doing with our little Becky ... the thing about Byron, he looks all tough and serious, but he'll melt for the right people, and I think our hottie got a place in his little heart, therefore he's become very protective over her, that's why right now he was yelling the worst curses at us, accusing us of being selfish bastards that don't think of consequences and so on. To nothing served making him notice that our Becky agreed.

Al and I stood against the kitchen counter, waiting for his seethe to pass. As usual when he gets this furious, he was giving us his full show: punching the island, yelling and cussing, pacing the kitchen ... nothing unseen.

"You know what, do whatever the fuck you want. I'm out of this." Byron barked in conclusion. Predictable. I guess he doesn't see her that way, well, he claims that, but I've seen him checking her out, maybe not as shamelessly as Al, but still. It surprises me, though. I mean, normally I'd be the one not to be sure, he'd be with Al pressing me ... I guess she did dig deep into our boy's heart.

Me, the more I have her, the more I want her. Really. It's like I can't get enough of her. It's been a week since Al proposed that little thing and she agreed, and I may as well tell you that, throughout this week, I've almost always gone to work pretty satisfied, if you know what I mean. I wonder why didn't I try this sort of thing earlier.

I mean, I've always been the boyfriend type, namely, whenever I had sex, it was only with a girl I was dating. I'm not Al, who takes home a different bimbo every night, Byron does that sometimes, but not often, me, I was the no fling kind of guy.

Till I opened my eyes and realized that life's too short. I've been a boring good boy for too long. The only times I've ever strayed, if I can even call it so, were those nights with the guys and a girl we picked up at the bar, as for the rest, boring good boy.

But turns out that girls don't dig the good boy type. Girls like bad, they only date good because he's that idiot that'll give them the moon. 6

If she could fuck half of her friends, I don't see why I can't be more like Al. Then again, to be that, I should go out with him and pick up whatever girl, but I don't really have it in me. Then again, I've got little Becky now, so why bother?

Man, is that girl naughty. Only on Monday she nearly made me spit my coffee with her ... peculiar good morning from beneath the table, and she didn't even quit when the guys joined us for breakfast, she just went on ... one of the most difficult moments of my life, to sit there, keeping a poker face, listening to my friends while that little naughty goddess blew my mind away. On Thursday she slipped into the shower when I was under it instead. I think she particularly enjoys shower sex. Can't say I blame her.

It should be odd, because if you don't consider the teasing as talking, you could say that Rebecca and I don't really say anything to each other. And I like to keep it this way.

After all, it's just sex. And before you deem me as an asshole, I'll kindly inform you that she's playing with me as much as I'm playing with her, therefore no harm done. Then again, it's better safe than sorry. I'd rather avoid any drama, thank you very much.

All I need is an easy fuck to relieve my needs, nothing more than that, and she's there for that purpose, so why bother trying to be friends? Besides, I don't really like her.

Honestly, other than her hot body, I don't see what Al finds so enthralling about her. Sometimes I think she might be the one that finally sets the manwhore that he is back on track. Then I remind myself that he's planning a threesome/foursome with her, so I don't think he's got many feelings for her.

Either way, all I like about her is her hotness. Nothing more than that. Then again, I haven't even tried to get to know her personality, otherwise my good boy side would win and make me feel guilty.

You see, the perks of doing the asshole are that you can freely not give a fuck about anything and live with it, but when, like me, you're technically a good boy striving to be bad, then it's not that easy. I know for a fact that if I added friendship to what we have I wouldn't be able to get through my plans.

Then again, if you ask me, our new roommate is only one of those girly girls that like male attention even too much. Kinda like my ex. No, exactly like my ex. I'm not saying Rebecca is a bitch as much as Melanie, hell, no, no one can beat my ex, she's too high on those standards, no, I mean Rebecca is one of those hot and sexy girls that know what they are and use their thing to ensnare us idiotic male beings. Kinda like Circe did with Ulysses and his pals.

I think she knows what she is and is not afraid of using her weapons at her own advantage. Just like Melanie. Byron tells me Rebecca is better than I think, but even if she was, I don't wanna know. It'd ruin what we have, and I'd rather not.

Besides, it's funnier if we can't stand each other but have mind-blowing sex so many times. It gives me a sense of irresistible attraction, a sense of prohibited that enhances the thrill of our thing.

I've always had strong feelings for the girls I slept with, I loved Melanie only, but I cared deeply for the other two, so it's a nice change to fuck someone you couldn't care less about for once, to just be selfish and don't feel the need to spoon her afterwards. It's lame, but it kinda makes me feel like a bad guy while I've always been good. It's fun.

Once he'd concluded, Byron stormed out of the kitchen, claiming he had a date tonight and didn't have time for our bullshit. He's been dating more lately, I guess because his mom's reproaches about him being more than a quarter of century old therefore marriage material did stick into his mind, so he's trying to comply with her.

Mrs. Wayne wants grandkids, of course. She wants to see Byron settled, after all, he's starting off his brilliant career as lawyer, all that's missing is a nice girl to wait for him at home, as his mom says.

Hadn't things taken such an awful detour, I would have been the one married instead. But, well, sometimes people reveal themselves for being the complete opposite to what you always believed. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad.

Like when you believe your girlfriend is the most loyal angel in this world, and then you find out that she's seen more dicks than you have seen vaginas. It wouldn't matter ... weren't it that she's inspected those nice toys when we were still dating.

I mean, she could have fucked the whole world before dating me, I wouldn't have given a damn, it just ... kinda unnerves me a little (note the sarcasm) that she'd so easily betray me so many times, without a fucking care in the world. But hey, I've learnt from her to be careless, so that's a good thing, isn't it?

As Byron stormed off, Al sighed. "Isn't he a little too touchy about this?"

I shrugged. "I guess he really cares about her."

Al arched an eyebrow at me. "So what? I care about her too. That doesn't mean I don't wanna fuck the shit out of her. Actually, that's a way of showing you care, if you ask me." I chuckled, shaking my head, but he went on: "What? It's true! What better way to say I care than make her pass out for the too many orgasms?"

Oh, I'm afraid I've been very much close to that already... that doesn't mean I care, though. Because I don't. And don't fucking want to. She's only a toy. It's nice playing with her and all, but I wouldn't friendly hang out with her like Al or Byron do so happily. Actually, the most contact we have, it's when we're naked.

"Sure. Whatever you say, man." I muttered, pulling off the counter.

Al snorted. "Don't act like you don't."

I turned to him, puzzled. "Excuse me?" I asked, giving him a disbelieving look.

Al snorted once more, pulling off the counter as well, but going to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "You care about her as much as we do, Will. Don't hide it."

I furrowed my eyebrows together. What the hell is that supposed to mean? "I couldn't care less, Al." I stated, but he snorted, uncapping his beer.

"Please. You can fool her, she barely knows you, but you can't fool me. You've been fucking her since over a week now, it's a wonder you haven't asked her out yet."

This time I snorted. "That was the old me. Old Will would have felt guilty about using her, this one really couldn't care less. Actually, this one ..." I smirked at the thought. "... this one loves the sight of her butt swaying as she gets out of his room." 7

Me caring about Rebecca. Please. All I see in her is a walking vagina I can play with. An easy fuck always available. And ... maybe a way of getting back at the female world. That's all she'll ever be for me.

***

REBECCA'S POV

I don't really know why, but I felt in a good mood tonight. I came from a long day of work, I had to do a double shift, yet I was fine, tired, but nothing a nice shower wouldn't fix. And that I did as soon as I came back to the apartment, which I am very much glad to call home already. I guess I really feel at ease here. I mean, there's a nice bond with the guys, even if we've known each other for so little. Well, there is a nice bond with Byron and somewhat with Al.

Will ... well, he's a whole different thing. We don't have a bond of any sort, all we do is have sex, a lot of sex, we barely talk to each other unless it's to tease. I'm fine with it anyway. That jerkface is good only at fucking. Literally. As for the rest, he's a complete asshole.

When I came back home, none of the guys was there, so I thought it could be a good moment for some Rebecca time ... no, not what you think, you pervs, I've got jerkface to take care of those needs, no, I mean a delicious, hours long bath session.

I took my sweet time preparing myself a nice bubbly bath, to get rid of stress and tiredness and to just love myself for once. Once it was ready, I stripped off my skinny jeans I've been suffocating in, for how freaking hot it is outside, and my blouse, then down to the underwear. I smiled when I let my hand skim over the water that was filled to the brim with bubbles, then I slowly sank in.

Nothing better to relax than a nice bubble bath. I also lit candles, having bought them purposely, I got music, having Morcheeba's tunes blast from my phone; normally I prefer Red Hot Chili Peppers, but this time I needed something calmer. I also got myself some white wine ... in a word, the perfect atmosphere for a relaxing couple of hours with me, myself and I.

The guys might come back soon, but I couldn't care less, though I doubt they will, I think they're really all out doing their business already, considering I came home later than usual, otherwise I'd have found them getting ready, well, Al and Byron, as for Will, I have no idea.

The guy's pretty much antisocial, weren't it for his two best friends, I'd think he's got none, always focused on studying and working, I mean, I've never seen him go out to have fun, though I guess he's got all the fun he wants when working at the bar every night from Mondays to Fridays.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if he also hooks up with clients ... none of my business anyway. Well, not till he comes back home and tells me he got this STD he got from this hooker and he infected me. But that's never gonna happen, despite everything, he doesn't give the idea of a manwhore like Al. Oh, well, whatever floats his boat.

I sank into my bubble bath, smiling, already feeling the effects. I'd tied my hair in a high up-do, just not to wet them, I'd untie them later to wash them, right now I was only taking care of my skin, you know, all those little things we girl gotta do to keep it fresh and soft and nice and all. Hey, beauty's no easy thing.

I've always liked doing it, it makes me relax. As much as reading does, in fact, once I was done with everything, I grabbed my book and restarted from where I'd left it a couple of nights ago, a glass of white wine in my other hand – of course, the cheap kind. Like that, I spent what felt like minutes, but was indeed two hours already.

I glanced at the bottle of wine ... half gone. Whoops. I could still reason without problems, though. Just to be sure, I put the half empty glass down, and sank into my bubbles that were sort of fading, I held my breath and went underwater, leaving only my legs out, kinda like those charming girls that do artistic swimming, well, a lame parody of them. I love doing this, because it mutes all the noises outside and it makes me feel supernatural.1

This time I did hear muffled sounds, though. Something like a door opening, then chuckles ... let me guess, one of the guys entered. I was annoyed more than potentially embarrassed, because it'd ruin my moment. Maybe whichever of them it is will take the hint and leave? I should have locked the door, right? I didn't even think about it. Oh, well, too late. Was this my family's house, I would be panicking, right now I was only cursing whichever of the guys and struggling to hold my breath.

The chuckles got closer, though. "Quite a night you'd set, huh?" Jerkface. Who else? I didn't reply, though, thinking of ways to make it look cool or better, to make him fall into the bathtub ... mmh, that wouldn't be a bad idea, would it? I'd kill two birds with one stone: I'd punish him for having ruined my moment, and ... I'd get a sight of Mr. Sexy Abs all soaked. Hmmm ... yummy.

I nearly flinched when I felt fingers skimming over the skin of my exposed legs, though. I would have said pervert ... hadn't I loved his touch so much. I can't deny it, he's a jerk for crying out loud, but man, does his touch drive me insane!

I felt him slowly rub my calves, travelling up, well, down in this case, to my thighs, making me squirm as I felt his hand dip beneath the water and slip between my thighs, but, sadly, he retrieved it soon. Too soon. I was already foreshadowing what would happen ...

When I faintly heard him move away, and because I couldn't hold my breath any longer, I finally reemerged, trying to give the impression of a hot mermaid emerging from the seas – hardly I made it.

To my surprise, it wasn't Will. It was Al. As soon as I rinsed my face from the water I was able to meet his cheeky grin as he stared at me in mad lust, clearly dying to get a piece of this apple he's been craving to have since I got here (his words the other night, not mine).

"You look disappointed, Becks. Waiting for another roommate, weren't you?" Al asked with a fake pout. I gave him a dirty look, asking what was he doing here, and he quite honestly admitted he ought to pee, to which I rolled my eyes, but asked him to give me a moment so I would wrap up myself and leave, but just when I went to stand up, he pushed me back, shaking his head. "No, no, no, you're perfect right there, babe. Just give me a moment." Then he left.

I bet to go use Byron's own bathroom. It would have broken the sexy atmosphere if I'd had to watch him pee, right? Even though, I don't really think there was an atmosphere to break, I mean – never mind, with the candles lit providing a dim light, the sensual music and all those bubbles, it felt like the perfect set for a hot scene.

If one wanted to be malicious, one could think I did all that because I was waiting for my lover. I guess from there comes Al's jab, him implying I was waiting for Will. Well, more like, I thought/hoped it was him to be touching me. Nothing personal, no favorites, it's just that that guy makes me feel Goosebumps every time he touches me.

Not really caring, I dropped back against the tub and heaved a big sigh. So much for enjoying some me time. Though I couldn't help but smile as I recalled Al's intentions ... he never got what I promised him – he's keeping my thong as a reminder, he said – neither have we had our 'bonding moment' altogether, which I am thankful for, because I'm not sure I'm ready to have all three of them yet.

The naughtiest part of me would want me to try one bed at a time first, and then altogether, but I'd like to take it more slowly. I've thought the thing through this week and ... the guys and I have been bonding, yes, but it's barely a month, yet I'm already almost regularly screwing one of them, flirting with the other, and sort of planning a foursome with all three. A bit too much, isn't it? To be honest, sometimes I rethink what I do with Will, but then ... then his hands land on me, and my thoughts all fly away.

In truth, I think the root of the issue here is that I don't really think most of the time, I mean, I just act on my newfound freedom, without really caring about anything else, so when I agreed to Al's offer, it was because all I thought was that the guys are freaking hot and that'd be one time in a million, for me to have three guys, not one, not two, but three guys all focused on taking care of my needs. It felt inviting.

Then I realized, it could bring trouble.

Oh, well. We'll see what happens. It's better to let things unfold on their own, I guess, overthinking never helps.

I remained there for a few moments, trying to be back to relaxing, despite Al's interruption, but once more there was an intruder: "Hey, Al, you here? I – oh, hello, there."

I couldn't help but groan, even without gazing at him. It wasn't a voice I could recognize, so I'm guessing it was one of Al's friends. When I turned to him, even while hiding my graces with the help of the bubbles I'd just added, I noticed this muscled – even too muscled for my tastes, more than Byron, and that's all saying – in black basketball shorts and white undershirt that clung so much to his muscles that it was impossible not to notice them, and I bet that was his purpose.

But ... as I looked at his face, I couldn't deny that, despite the insolent smirk, he was pretty handsome. He looked older than the guys, possibly well into his mid-thirties, maybe even close to his forties, fluffy jet black hair, short boxed beard whose color was black but already brought signs of grey, which, I can't deny, made him look somewhat more handsome and – and I quit there, because, judging by his smirk, he noticed I was checking him out.

"If you like, I can join you." The guy mentioned.

I glared at him. "Courtesy would want you to excuse yourself immediately, given my predicament." I don't know why I said that, especially while all I wanted to yell was get the fuck out of my bathroom before I castrate you.

The guy smirked only more, licking his lips as his eyes raked my body, well, the bubbles that hid my body, making me feel self conscious actually, not because he didn't like what he saw – it was as clear as the freaking sun that he was liking it very much – but because his gaze was even too intense. Those blue eyes seemed made to pierce through people's souls. The weird thing is that they reminded me of some others I've looked into more often lately.1

"You sure you want me out, hun? I mean, we can come to an agreement here ..." The guy said seductively, but I glared, covering myself more with the bubbles. I couldn't really get up to grab my towel without flashing him, you know, and I really didn't want that.

Lucky thing there was a groan coming from the door, I thought from Al, but it was actually Will, coming to break off the stare contest between me and the stranger – me glaring, him smirking smugly as he stood there.

"For fuck's sakes, Wyatt, get the fuck out! Don't you know privacy?!" More than the shout itself, to surprise me was the protective tone – ugh, what am I saying? What protective tone? It was more like a possessive one. Like ... hey, that's my merchandise you're ogling.

The guy rolled his eyes and turned around, only to be pushed off by Will, who sent me a dirty look while grabbing a bathrobe for me to put on. Whoa, what got his panties in a twist now? I should be the one getting mad, not him.

"Calm down, William, I was only ... appreciating the view." The stranger justified, winking at me, but only receiving a glare in response, both from me and from Will, who put the bathrobe between me and the guy, so that I could easily stand up without him seeing anything of my naked body.

I didn't really want to leave my nice bubble bath, but with how crowded the bathroom got, it was impossible to get some privacy anymore, therefore I stood up and put on the bathrobe, actually wondering why was Will fuming like that. It's not like I'm his property, and it's not like he actually gives a damn about me.

Once I was all covered, I glanced down at the floor to see if I'd remembered to put there the bathmat, but just as I was about to be brave, and step a foot out without any protection – because yes, I'd forgotten the mat – I felt my hand being tucked securely into someone else's, someone that gripped it tightly and helped me out of the bathtub, someone that dropped my hand as if it were on fire as soon as he was sure I wouldn't fall, but still ... Will actually cared if I hurt myself or not.

I know it'll be nothing to you, but consider this: he doesn't like me, wasn't it for the sex, he'd pretty much hate my guts, he never talks to me, unless it's to throw teasing innuendos, he barely ever even acknowledges my existence – again, unless it's for the sex – therefore you'll understand why was I so puzzled to realize he actually cared if I got injured or not. Weird.

I turned my attention to the stranger straight away, and caught him half frowning at the spot where mine and Will's hands had just been, as if he were just as surprised as I was to see that small act of caring from Will's part.

I ignored that, and moved away to reach my slippers, thankfully making it without any incident, then moved to leave, but before I turned around, glaring at both: "By the way, a girl likes not to be disturbed when she's taking a bubble bath, you primitives. Learn for the next time, before you find yourself stabbed with a stiletto." Said that, I made my theatrical way out.2

***

I could hear the guys arguing in the living room all the way from mine. I took my sweet time getting dressed and taking care of my skin, but in the end I only wore Tom's hockey jersey – New York Rangers, of course – which hung very much loosely on me, him being pretty tall, well, kinda like Will more or less, but don't worry, even though the jersey reached my mid-thighs, I wore my Nike shorts too. It's actually the usual attire for me when I get these me moments, because ... well, wearing something Tom cared about so much – enough to actually sleep in it even – makes me feel better, completes my little bubble of tranquility ... it makes me feel like he's still here with me.

I tied my hair in a messy high ponytail, and headed out to the living room, finding Al with the stranger watching TV, something about football. How predictable. Even though, there was a weirdly tense halo blanketing the room.

"Hey, Becks ... nice jersey, but you got the wrong sport." Al hollered after me as I bypassed the couch to walk to the kitchen, but I ignored him. I could hear the new guy making not very chivalrous comments on me as I grabbed some water.

I went back to the living room, only to find Will sitting on the armchair, across from the other two, looking pretty grim. Does he really have a thing for being so brooding all the time?

Well, maybe it's about his ex. I mean, with all the nasty we've done this week, I've never actually paused a moment and wondered if his poor little heart is okay or not. Maybe he's still nursing the heartbreak. I know nothing about what happened between them, I didn't dare ask the guys, less than less mention it to him, I just know that the breakup was pretty painful for Will. Then again, he doesn't really look like he's got a heart at all.

Now, the picture was a little weird. I mean, you've got Al and this new guy all heated up as they argue about these or those choices this or that football coach should have made on one side, taking almost all the couch, then Will across from them, looking bored out of his mind as he's forced to listen to them talk.

"Don't you wanna sit, hun?" The stranger asked me, startling me and ... causing Will to break his trail of thought and realize I was kinda staring at him ... the smirk on his face didn't form as predicted, though. I guess he's really in a bad mood today. Weird, this morning he looked okay.

I tore my gaze from him and turned to the stranger, sassing: "Next to you? I don't want cooties, thank you very much." That was a pretty cool comeback, if I say so myself, but the trouble is, our living room doesn't consist of much, therefore, unless I wanted to sit either on the floor or on the coffee table, the only seat available was, guess what, the arm of the armchair where Will was sitting.

Well, I didn't really think that through, I only spat my comeback like that and then strode towards him to sit there, keeping my cool enough to look nonchalant as I crossed my legs while they all watched me intently, Will included.

"So, we haven't been introduced yet." I mused, directed at the stranger, just so they would all quit drooling over my legs. Men are always gonna be men, huh?

The new guy gave me a conceited smirk as he stretched enough to almost lean over Al and get to my hand, willing to shake it as he introduced himself: "Wyatt. Wyatt Foster, at your service, Milady."

I rolled my eyes at his cheekiness but shook his hand nevertheless. Will practically dug a hole in the new guy's head. Should I think he's ... nah.

Wyatt gave me a mischievous smirk as he winked at me, turning back to his place, his eyes darting back to the TV, only to then curse and restart arguing with Al about the 'trainings being done all wrong' ... as if I had a single idea of what they were talking about.

I turned to Will instead, who looked like he wanted to either flee or snap at all of us, so I couldn't help but lean in a little, enough for me to be closer to his ear: "You alright?" His blue eyes snapped to me, a flash of surprise covered by annoyance. "I mean, you look ... thoughtful?" I sort of asked, to justify my first question.

He rolled his eyes, muttering: "As if it were any of your goddamn business."

Ugh. The jerkface. Why do I even bother? "I only wanted to be kind. No need to be a jerk."

He snorted, catching the guys' attention, which had Wyatt laugh – a booming laugh, given his deep voice – and explain: "He's fine, hun, just irked because I'm here."

I frowned, both at his words and at the nickname. Will grunted: "The moron here is my brother."3

"Yeah, and Willy here isn't my number one fan. That's why the pout." Wyatt butted in, patting on Will's thigh, only to gain a glare from him. I wonder why is that, but then again, Will looks like the type of guy that would hate everyone, so I shrugged it off and asked Wyatt why was he here instead.

"I was around here,and thought I'd come see how's my baby brother doing." Wyatt answered, his blue eyes practically trying to X-Ray my jersey.

Will snorted, but I pretended not to notice, just went on talking, well, more like rolling my eyes as Wyatt took every chance to flirt with the lamest pickup lines ever.

A few minutes into that, Will groaned, hissing: "Isn't it time for you to go, Wyatt?" Wow, he must really hate his brother. I know the feeling. My sisters would gladly wring my throat, I'd gladly run them over, if only I had a car. I don't know what's their issue, but me, I've got my good reasons to hate my sisters and my so called mother. When they make of your life a living Hell, you decide they're not worth your affection.

Because that's the weird part ... at first I'd try my best to be on their good side, to have them like me, thinking that maybe if I was kind, they would treat me like one of them ... how wrong I was. As of now, I still don't have the slightest idea why do they hate my guts so furiously, but I gave up on trying to be liked since they tried to take away from me the only one person that's ever loved me.

Lucky thing Tom was better than them. Better than anyone in this freaking world. And he had to leave it so soon ... for my fault even. Because hadn't we eloped that night, hadn't he wanted to save me, he'd still be here.

Hadn't he met me, he would have escaped from his father much sooner, he wouldn't have been at the bastard's mercy, only an unplugging away from Heaven. Sometimes I think he's with his mother at least, so that's a bit of a consolation. At least he's fine now.

But enough with the sad thoughts. I had to shake my head not to let the guys notice I was spacing out, even more, not to let them see the tears that were already prickling behind my eyes. Lucky thing they were too engrossed in the talk about football to mind me. Well, two of them, the third one gazed at me with furrowed eyebrows, clearly trying to figure out what was on my mind.

To send him off track, I smirked: "Take a picture, it'll last longer." Lame for a comeback, I know, but I couldn't think of anything better, not while having his icy blue eyes piercing through me like that, not while I was trying to escape from my memories. In response he rolled his eyes, but didn't reply, which is a first, because Will always has a comeback, no matter what.

In the end, the other two seemingly got bored of talking about football and Wyatt's attention turned back to me, as he eyed me with a smug smirk always splattered on his face. As for arrogance, I get why these two are brothers, I swear. "So ... Rebecca, is it? How long have you and my baby brother been dating?"

My eyes practically bulged out as Will grunted. "We're not dating." He spat, as if only the thought of dating me were the most disgusting thing he could thing of.

"Not so disgusted when we're fucking, huh?" I snapped, wounded in pride.5

"You give yourself yoo much credit," Will snorted, "I'm only screwing you because I don't have time to find someone else."3

I'd have slapped the arrogance out of him, I swear, but you know what? I don't give a damn. What distracted me from digging a hole in Jerkface's head, was Wyatt's laugh. "Seriously, Rebecca? You can do better than him."

"Of course I can, but that's none of your goddamn business."

He laughed, of course he laughed. What should I expect from Jerkface's brother? What I didn't like was the way he started attacking Will, not in a playful way, belittling him instead, making fun of him. I could see Al red in anger, while Will took in every insult without a word. I didn't. I don't like it when people are made fun of, it's a form of bullying, and I've gone through that already, I know how horrible it is.

So I snapped. "What is wrong with you?! You can't just come here and insult your brother in his own home! Were it for me, you'd have already been kicked out. Actually," I leaped to my feet. "Just leave. I don't care what they say, this is my place,too, and I don't want a fucking jackass like you in my apartment." I have no idea what got into me, I just know that I saw in Wyatt's teasing all the snarky comments I always received from my sisters, and I couldn't hold it back anymore.1

They all looked at me puzzled for a moment, especially Will, who was clearly surprised that I defended him, till Wyatt just burst out laughing, shaking his head, making my glare get deathly as he commented: "To this you've gotten? Hiding behind your girl? Wow, and I thought you couldn't be any more pathetic, William."

I expected him to react, but Will simply stood up, and left, storming his way to his room. Once he disappeared, I turned to the other two, fuming. "Alan, either you kick this jackass out or I will." My friend didn't need to be asked twice, he leaped to his feet, and escorted Wyatt out.

When he came back, I had my glare ready for him, too. "Next time, you might wanna grow some balls, and take your friend's defenses, you jerk." Mad, I stormed out, heading to the prohibited area. I don't even know why did I care. I guess I saw him as myself when my sisters bullied me.

When I knocked, Will obviously didn't respond, so I entered without a word, only to receive an annoyed grunt from the figure that was hunched over the desk, dipped into some papers: "Get the fuck out."

I rolled my eyes. "Always so kind, huh?"

Will turned to me that I was still at the doorframe, but about to step inside the room. "Don't you take one single step more, Rebecca. It's for your own good."

I snorted. "Or what? You're gonna kill me? Go ahead. I'm right here." He rolled his eyes, then groaned when he noticed his scary tone didn't work with me. "It's not like I haven't seen this room before."

He let himself smirk a little, which, for once, didn't annoy me. I don't even know why was I willing to cheer him up, but I guess it's solidarity. "Fine. What do you want?" Will asked harshly. You get used to his grumpy tone when you've heard it so many times.

"I just wanted to know if you're okay." I responded truthfully, not caring about him getting the wrong idea, I was just trying to be friendly.

Obviously, he snorted. "Do I look injured? I'm fine."

"Gee, can you not snap at me for once?" I wondered in disbelief, actually irked that he'd treat me like this every time, even when I've done nothing.

Will grunted, and went back to his papers, claiming: "I'm like this. Take it or leave it. No, wait, just leave."

I rolled my eyes. Really, this guy's a lost cause. But I wanted to know: "What the hell have I done to you to hate me like this?" He turned to me, annoyed and bored at the same time. "I'm not complaining, I just wanna know, why do you hate me? And if you hate me, how come you so easily –"

"I don't need to like you to screw you, Rebecca." He cut me off, gaining a glare.

I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. "You're such a jerk. I don't even know why do I put up with you."

He smirked, slowly getting up. I knew he was coming closer, and I knew I ought to back up before letting him intoxicate me with his touch, but I thought I'd make it to resisting. I'm stronger than that, aren't I?

Will came enough close for me to have to back up against the wall, but he didn't touch me, he only smirked, making me want to punch that leer off his face. "You talk like we're together or something." He mentioned. "While all we've done was fuck a couple of times –"

"Six." I corrected, which only had him grin. I bet he was thinking he's so great I even keep count of the times when we do it because I can't get him out of my mind. The jerk.

"Right, six. And that means you put up with me?"

I rolled my eyes. "For being so smart, you always miss the point." I sassed, and he traced his teeth with his tongue as he nodded.

Abruptly, he pushed me against the wall, enough for me to yelp as his arms snaked around me, his head moving to my neck. "You put up with me because you like what we do – what I do to you. Wasn't that obvious?" He remarked, his lips slowly trailing light kisses over my neck, making me gasp for her just at that. His hands slipped beneath my jersey. "You don't need to like me to like sex with me. That's pretty obvious, too."4

His fingers hooked to my Nike shorts, and he slipped them down, not bothering my half muttered and not really convinced protests. I moaned when he bit down on my neck, and he took that chance to slip his fingers in my mouth, to have me shut up, I guess. "We don't want the others to hear, do we?" That sounded so perverted. Yet I liked it. The idea of the other two guys possibly hearing us made it only hotter.

But I didn't let him go on for much longer, because I soon pushed him off, glaring. "You think I'm some doll you play with, don't you?"

The uncaring smirk on his face only made me want to sucker punch him and knock the shit out of him. "You signed up for that role, I think." He justified, his fingers skimming over the bare skin of my hips, daring to slip the jersey over my head.

"Did I?"

Will smirked, his fingers going to my neck again as he leaned in, and mentioned: "Nothing wrong with it." He harshly bit down on my neck, making me shoot my head back and moan like a stupid cat in heat that couldn't keep track of her damn hormones. "I don't see what's the issue here." Will mentioned, his other hand that was on my hip descending to have me raise one leg and take off the shorts that were at my ankles. "We're just two adults playing around, Becky."

That was my cue. My eyes suddenly widened, and I pushed him off. "What did you just call me?"

Will blinked his eyes, confused. "Becky?"

My fists clenched and my thoughts started getting uneven. I don't even know why, but hearing that nickname from someone else sounded outrageous. "Don't." I spat through gritted teeth. "Do not call me that."

Will frowned. "Why not?"

I inhaled deeply, already feeling my stomach upside down and my eyes watering. "Just don't." I concluded, then stormed off, without even bothering to grab my shorts from the floor. I just ran all the way to my room, ignoring the other two in the living room, and threw myself on bed.

Remember when I said I've come to terms with it? Bullshit. Loads of bullshit. I just try to push through life without thinking too much of him. But there are times when the memory just gets overwhelming and I ... I end up crying like a freaking baby. Only because a stupid nickname reminded me I used to have the most marvelous guy in this world. And I lost him. Why does have life to be so unfair?