I'm falling for my best friend too.
And I have no fucking idea what to do about either.
CHAPTER 5
BELLS
Iwake to the sound of alphas trying to kill each other.
Well. Notactuallytrying to kill each other.
Probably.
But the snarling coming from the kitchen is the kind of primal, guttural noise that makes my hindbrain pay attention even through three inches of reinforced door and whatever Rex lined these walls with.
I drag myself out of bed, shove my feet into the white bunny slippers Phoenix bought me at the hotel store, and shuffle toward the carnage.
"—wasclearlylabeled, you absolute fuckinganimal?—"
"It was in abag, Raf. An unmarked bag. In the back of the fridge. That's abandoned food. That's thelaw."
"The LAW?! There is no law! It had my NAME on it!"
"Where? Show me where your name was."
"On the receipt! Which was IN the bag!"
"Who reads receipts?"
"LITERATE PEOPLE, PHOENIX."
I round the corner to find Rafael squared up against Phoenix like they're about to throw hands over what appears to be an empty takeout container. Raf's hair is wild, his tank top riding up on one side. Phoenix is barefoot with his sweatpants slung low over his padded waist and nothing else, holding his ground with the calm confidence of someone who knows he has at least eighty pounds on his opponent.
An empty sushi container sits on the counter between them like evidence at a crime scene.
"It was stale," Phoenix says mildly.
"Good enough for you to eat all of it! There's nothing else in the fucking fridge!"
They're both bristling, shoulders wide, braced for an actual fight. On anyone else it'd be terrifying. On these two, it's like watching golden retrievers fight over a tennis ball.
"Can you two stop before you start fucking on the kitchen counter?" I say flatly. "Just get more sushi tonight. Hell, for lunch, even."
The blush starts at Rafael's neck and races up to his hairline so fast I'm slightly concerned he might actually be having a medical event.
Phoenix just barks out a booming laugh. "Yeah,Raf."
He's already crossing the kitchen to greet me. He cups my face in his big warm hands, strokes his thumbs over my cheekbones,and stoops to press his lips to mine. I wrap my arms around his thick waist and happily return the kiss.
"Traitor," Rafael mutters at me from behind the counter.
Phoenix releases me and goes back to the coffee maker like nothing happened, but he's grinning from ear to ear. Rafael is still beet red, aggressively not looking at either of us, pretending to clean the counter with a paper towel that's disintegrating because none of the alphas in this house know what the good brands are.
I open the fridge.
And stare.
To be fair to Raf, itisa graveyard in here. Three takeout containers of indeterminate age and origin. A cardboard container of energy drinks with only one left. A potato. Or maybe it's an old lime.