Chapter 8: Landlord Wars: Chapter 8

Sophia

I returned to my apartment later that night, expecting the house to be quiet, as it was nearing midnight. Instead, my sister, Jack, and Max were still sitting in the living room, and the atmosphere was tense. And this time, the tension wasn’t coming from Landlord Devil.

At first, no one seemed to pay me any attention, and that worked, because I was disappointed in myself and how the date went. But then I caught the dynamic going on in the living room, and I stilled.

Elise was sitting with her back to Max, facing Jack, her jaw shifting back and forth like she was an inch away from exploding, and it took me aback. She wasn’t the type to get riled up unless it was with me. “How can you defend him!” she said. “He was such a jerk.”

Jack scratched the back of his head and stood, his mouth parting in a wide yawn. “The guy had been cheated on and dumped by his fiancée. He had reasons.”

Max caught my eye as I stood near the entrance and scanned me as though to make sure I was all in one piece. He rose and said, “I’m taking off.”

Had he been waiting for me?

I gave my head a mental shake. Max hated me; of course he hadn’t been waiting. He was probably hoping someone would take over babysitting duties for my sister and his best friend.

I set my purse on the counter and watched Max stride to the front door and shoot me one last lingering glance before slipping out like a thief in the night.

“Elise?” I approached the living room. “You okay?”

My sister didn’t acknowledge me. In the next instant, anger filled her expression and she grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it, nearly hitting Jack in the face. My jaw dropped.

Jack tilted his head to the side. “Did you just hit me?”

Elise glared. “If I had wanted to hit you, I would have.”

I stepped between the two of them. “What’s going on?”

Elise glanced up. “When did you get here?”

“Just now. I said your name, but you were too busy hating on Jack to hear me.”

Elise blinked, then stood. “We’re not fighting.”

Jack snorted, then picked up the dishes and empty beer bottles from the coffee table. He made his way into the kitchen.

I stared at my sister. “What do you mean, you’re not fighting? You just threw something at my roommate. How is that not fighting?”

Elise walked around me toward the front door, avoiding my eyes. “I should get going.”

“Elise Marie, don’t you dare leave without talking to me.”

She grabbed her book bag from next to the door and then paused. “How was your date?”

That was a smart move, turning the focus on me. “It was fine.”

Jack stopped what he was doing and leaned against the counter. “Define fine.”

I was tired, and it was two against one. Tomorrow, I’d force Elise into telling me what the hell was going on between her and my roommate. “He was a nice guy,” I said and reached for the nearest tea mug I’d left out. This one said, It’s too peopley outside. I took a sip and winced. The tea was ice cold, of course, but I needed a distraction. Why the hell had I thought I was ready to start dating?

Jack looked at Elise, and they exchanged some sort of silent communication. Which was super annoying. Hadn’t they just been yelling at each other?

I walked into the kitchen and hunted for the chocolate truffles I kept on hand in times of duress. Like when I went on a blind date and didn’t know how I felt about it. Only the chocolate wasn’t where I’d left it, in the cupboard above the cutlery. And neither was the craft chocolate I’d bought in Noe Valley last week.

What the hell?

Jack was a salty guy, hence his pilfering of popcorn when he had the munchies. And my sister had never understood my chocolate obsession, so she wasn’t likely to have cleaned me out. “Have you guys seen my chocolate? I swear I put it here.”

Jack set the bottles in the recycling bin. “Not a chocolate person. But Max was rooting around in the cabinets earlier. He might have grabbed some.”

My face heated and my molars clamped together so hard they made an audible clack. Chocolate was my one freaking indulgence…and that asshat took it?

Did he have a death wish?

“That man has a death wish,” Elise muttered, reading my face. She opened the front door. “I’m taking off. I’ll call you tomorrow for date details, Soph.”

I cringed. “Do we need to have that conversation?”

“Yes,” she said pointedly, and closed the door behind her.

Jack stopped what he was doing, his eyes widening. “Oh, wow. Sorry about the chocolate. What kind was it?” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll order you more right now.”

“No.” I waved him off. “It’s no big deal.”

Lies. It was a big freaking deal! Those truffles were exported from a French chocolatier in Vancouver and cost the equivalent of a venti mocha apiece, hence the reason I saved them for special occasions only. And it grated that Max, of all people, had eaten not just one, not two, but all six.

The low hum in my head was taking on jackhammer decibels. I will not kill Max Burrows. I will not kill Max Burrows.

Jack grabbed a handful of cashews from a bowl he’d brought into the kitchen and tossed one in the air, catching it in his mouth. “Max is used to helping himself to my food.” His expression turned abashed. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know the chocolate was off-limits. I’ll reimburse you. Actually, I’m headed to Trader Joe’s this week and can grab some more.”

I swallowed and tried not to gag. “Trader Joe’s? For chocolate?

“It’s not the same?”

“No,” I said. “But don’t worry. I was getting low on my stash. I’ll pick up more tomorrow.” I wouldn’t be living here much longer anyway. There was no reason to put Jack out because of Landlord Devil’s rude, chocolate-grubbing thievery.

“Here.” He fished into his navy sweatpants, pulled out a leather wallet, and handed me a twenty-dollar bill. “Is that enough?”

Not at all, I thought. But no way was I going to admit how much I spent on chocolate.

Some women loved shoes. Gourmet chocolate was my vice and where my extra paycheck went. Along with the fancy anxiety candles, expensive chocolates were by far the most luxurious thing I allowed myself. “Don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t Jack’s fault his best friend had no respect for food property.

I heated some water, grabbed a chamomile tea bag, and was about to go sulk in my room when Jack touched my shoulder and handed me the twenty.

“For when you go shopping again. Also, you never finished telling how your date went. You think you’ll go out with the guy again?”

I stepped out of my heels and picked them up, considering how to keep it vague. “He was nice and kind of cute, but I’m not a good judge of character.”

Jack shrugged. “No one is until they get to know someone, and you just met him. Give it time.”

My date really had been nice. And he was cute. He worked in the Financial District, which I didn’t hold against him. And he’d dressed in slacks and a sports coat for our date, so he’d put effort into it. He’d also pulled out my chair for me at the restaurant and paid for dinner even though I’d offered to split. We’d talked about our respective jobs, and he didn’t look at me like I was crazy for spending my time arranging plants, which earned him bonus points. All in all, the evening had been pleasant, and if the guy asked me out again, I wouldn’t mind.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was I’d found myself comparing him to Max Burrows—more than once!—and that had me wanting to bash my head against the wall.

Why Max? Why?

When my date smiled, there’d been no smirk, and somehow that seemed suspicious, like he wasn’t revealing his true self. Because I’d grown used to an honest smirk, or better yet, a full frown from a man. Then later, when my date stood to walk me out of the restaurant, he hadn’t tucked his hands in his slacks like a certain rich asshole, and somehow that was another strike against him. Because hands in pockets meant… I didn’t even know!

Had I lost my mind? Was I attracted to jerks now? What the hell? And to make matters worse, the jerk in question had stolen my most prized possession while I was on my date.

I was livid. And needed to see a therapist. Or maybe I needed a swift knock to the head.

I let out a slow breath. I hadn’t been on a date in over a year. It made sense that I was comparing the new person to the only male who’d occupied my thoughts lately, even if said thoughts were filled with rage.

Except that wasn’t entirely true, because I’d been around Jack more than Max.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes. I had convinced myself to move out of Jack’s because of this asshole. So why the hell was I comparing other men to him?