Page 35 of Maksim
“I’ve never known you to be so studious,” I say, unable to help myself.
She smiles, but it’s anything but friendly. “Yeah, well, you’ve always been busy with work. You’ve never really known me to be anything.”
Ouch.
“That’s not true.”
She purses her lips and nods her head in an annoying sure thing gesture, and I force myself to let it go. I really can’t tell when she’s baiting me versus when she’s serious, but I’ve learned not to engage. Or I’m learning.
I look away a moment to collect myself before folding my arms on the table and leaning toward her. “So how was school?”
She throws her head back in a cruel laugh, putting her hand to her chest for effect. It’s bitchy enough that it makes my teeth grind.
“Anya, I’m trying. Please, can we spend a half hour together without fighting?”
“We’re not fighting. I’m just not an idiot, big brother. You don’t care how school was, so don’t waste my time asking.”
Don’t engage.
Don’t engage.
Breathe. Divert. Try again.
Or not.
“If I thought you went to school, I would care how it went, Anya. I would. In fact, if I wasn’t fucking afraid to hear about the things you do when you should be in school, I’d even love to have a conversation about that.”
I can feel my anger getting the best of me, can feel the heat in my ears, the tightness in my chest.
Anya slumps in her seat but glares defensively. “What are you talking about?”
I lean toward her over the table, my teeth tightly clenched. “Did you have sex on my couch this morning?”
“What?” She rears back, trying to look shocked by the question, but guilt flashes across her face.
“Did. You…” I close my eyes and take a breath, steadying myself. When I open them, I speak calmly. “I found your bra on the couch when I stopped by the house this morning, and it wasn’t there when I left for work.”
“So? I came and changed clothes before school. What’s the big deal?”
It wasn’t before school. It was at ten o’clock according to the tracking app. And she’s a fucking liar.
“You changed clothes in the living room?”
“What does it matter?” She flings her hands up, her eyes wide.
“It matters because you’re full of shit, Anya,” I growl, unable to take it anymore. “We have security cameras. Do you really think I don’t see you bringing that tattooed piece of shit into my house when you’re supposed to be at school?” I lean back and wipe my hand over my face, smearing the images away.
She knows we have door cameras. It would be stupid not to. What she doesn’t realize, and what I don’t plan on telling her, is that there’s a camera in our living room and throughout most of the house. Except, of course, her bedroom and bathroom.
“Don’t call him that,” she growls, her black, chipped nail polish catching my eye as she grips the table. “You’re not half the man that Tanner is.”
I laugh. “I thought his name was Hailey.”
“Fuck you.” She shoves her plate my way, knocking silverware onto the wooden table. It makes enough commotion that I look around to see we’ve caught the attention of a few diners nearby.
I lean in and lower my voice, determined to have the last word. “If I could stop you from whoring yourself out to low-life trash, I would. But since it doesn’t seem I can, I just ask that you stay off my fucking couch.”
She stands abruptly, her perfect, ivory cheeks now a rosy-red color. The table rattles when she slaps her hand against it and leans toward me. “You don’t have to worry about that because I won’t be coming to your house ever again. I hate you.”