"That'll be $207.60."
Greyson tips his sunglasses down to the end of his nose, a small squeak coming out of his mouth.
"You're joking." He giggles, then smirks and points a chubby finger at my unamused face. "It's funny, really, it is. Good one."
I push the bill across the table. "Cash or card?"
My own smirk develops as Greyson's drops off.
"You're being serious?" He pushes his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.
"As the fucking plague." I reply, taking a long sip of my scolding hot coffee. I make sure to add extra slurping noises just to get under Grey's skin.
He mumbles curses under his breath. "Why the fuck should I pay for your house to be cleaned?"
"Oh, I don't know." I glare at his stupid face. Even just looking at this man makes me angry.
Seriously, what kind of idiot wears sunglasses indoors? The seriously hungover kind, that's who.
"Maybe you have to pay because it was your party, your friends, your booze that got spilt all over my carpet and-"
"Okay, okay. I get it, jackass, no need to continue."
But I do think that there is a need. "It's your fault my microwave broke, your fault all my guest bedrooms stink of sweat and sex-"
"Like they didn't smell of that before." He mutters.
I ignore his snide dig and finish off my lists of things that are most definitely his fucking fault.
"And it's your fault I had to bash my bathroom door off it's fucking hinges."
"Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah." Greyson rushes out, his hand flying up. "The other shit I can accept but that? How the fuck is that my fault?"
I walk over to the other side of my kitchen island and snatch Grey's half-finished coffee out of his hands. He whimpers, just like Stanley does when I accidentally stand on his tail, when I tip the remnants down the sink and place the mugs neatly in the dishwasher.
"Because it was one of your little friends that got fucking trapped in there. With poor Stanley too."
His eyebrows furrow. "You're gonna have to rewind a little here, buddy. You've totally lost me."
"What's new?" I whisper to myself. Clearly not quietly enough though because Grey lets out the bitchiest whine.
"Some blonde girl; younger, short as fuck, pretty face, has a damn rambling problem?" He looks just as confused as before. "I think her name was Nova? She was quite a mumbler though, so, fuck knows."
Greyson's face splits into a shit eating grin and I dread to think what stupid comments he's got lined up in that head of his. "You met Nova?"
"Less met... More she cock-blocked me. But yeah, for some fucking reason she fell asleep on my bathroom floor. Half naked."
Now that was a shock to the system when I finally burst into the room.
I tried, real fucking hard, not to stare at her. I didn't want to be a fucking perv but...
It was almost impossible not to notice the toned legs Stanley rest his paws on or the tiny waist accentuated by that black fucking miniskirt. And the white lace bra she was wearing.
I thankfully stopped myself before I could take in what filled her skimpy underwear.
It's safe to say that finding Blondie snoring away in my bathroom sure was a surprise.
"No way." Greyson chuckles at my misery. "How long was she in there for?"
I shrug and drop myself down onto one of my barstools. "Fuck knows. She ran off before I could ask any questions."
"She ran away from you?" He's practically howling in laughter now.
My face forms a scowl. "Yeah, so fucking what?"
"Nothing, nothing." Grey wipes his eyes. "I'm just glad that you finally got humbled."
This annoying little shit. I swear to God, one of these day, I'll kill him.
"It can't be humbling when there was still a naked supermodel in between my fucking sheets." I snap at him, biting into a red apple aggressively.
He rolls his eyes. "Sure. It's just a shame that poor Nova wasn't interested, huh?"
I cannot stand him. It's like he thinks that I pounce on every woman I lay my beady little eyes on.
In reality, it's more like every woman that lays their beady little eyes on me pounces.
"She might have been fucking interested, Greyson, if I had tried it on her." I pour myself another mug of black coffee. I need it to put up with this asshole.
"But I didn't. I was more interested in the fact that Stanley didn't eat her alive in there."
Grey hums thoughtfully and watches my dog sprinting circuits around my balcony. Stan has his favourite stuffed chew toy hanging from his mouth and doesn't stop running around until he bangs his head on the glass railings.
Idiot.
"That is weird." Greyson mutters, turning back to me. "Stanley hates the people he does knows, let alone strangers. Did Nova give him some treats or something?"
I roll my eyes. "Unless Blondie had doggie biscuits stuffed down her bra- no, she had no treats."
Stanley barks by the patio doors, pawing them and throwing himself at the glass as an attempt to escape.
The fact that this dog, this dumb, dumb dog, didn't eat this girl, Nova, alive is a damn miracle. And judging by the way Stan attempted to protect her, I think he probably took a strong liking to her.
That never happens.
I'm not all that convinced that he likes me. And I'm the one that payed for him.
"Who knows, maybe my sister's friend is a secret dog whisperer?"Greyson chuckles and goes to let Stanley back into the apartment.
My puppy yips at his 'Uncle G', as he has dubbed himself, and darts inside. He heads straight for the living room and dives onto the couch, messing up the couch pillows I just got professionally cleaned.
Typical.
"Your sister's friend?" I repeat back to Grey when he sits back down across from me. "Blondie, erm Nova, is Cece's friend?"
He nods, munching down on a chocolate muffin he claimed is a 'healthy breakfast'. "Best friend, also her roommate. They go to college together too. At this point they honestly may as well be conjoined twins."
Interesting. Very, very interesting.
"It kinda sucks that they're so close." Greyson spews crumbs all over my kitchen island. "If it wasn't for Cece, I'd totally try and flirt the panties off of her."
And he says that I'm the fuckboy here.
I watch with a grimace as Stanley attacks the blanket tossed over the couch arm. He growls, bites and digs his claws into it but, thankfully, the throw remains intact.
"That dog needs to go to puppy school." Greyson laughs, licking the crumbs off of the now empty muffin wrapper.
My hand has a mind of its own when I throw my apple core at his forehead. "You need to go to fucking puppy school. Learn some damn manners."
"When did you become such a meanie?" He whines, rubbing at the spot I just hit.
The doorbell chimes suddenly, sending Stanley into yet another fit of loud barking and excited bouncing around.
I roll my eyes and back away from Greyson. "When did you become such a meanie?" I mimic him, my voice raising at least 3 octaves, and head over to the door.
"Thank God." I groan when I'm met with the face of my new puppy-sitter- or Stanley's new enemy.
With playing away games so often and long, gruelling, hours at practice- I really need someone to house watch and make sure Stanley doesn't either chew off my kitchen counters or kill himself.
Hopefully when he's a little older her won't need as much supervision but for now?
I need all the eyes on him that I can fucking get.
"Hi, nice to meet you, Mr Romano." Her smirk is wiped off of her face and her eyes blow wide at the yapping Irish Setter charging at her.
"Stanley." I scold him just before he can jump up onto her. "Sorry about him. He's erm..."
An idiot? A pest? An uncontrollable nuisance?
"He's still learning." I settle for, opening the door slightly wider to allow her in. "You're Matilda?"
Her eyes roam around the apartment, her smirk returning. "Tilly, actually. You're place is gorgeous."
It fucking better be considering the £1.3 million I invested into it. I desperately want to say. But I've been told that I need to work on my 'people skills'.
So instead I have to settle for a curt "Thank you."
Greyson hurtles into the room, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. I quickly notice that he changed from wearing a thick sweatshirt to a very fitted compression shirt.
One that helps you clearly count his defined 6-pack.
Subtle as ever, Hastings.
"Wow, you must be the unlucky bastard who's in charge of taming the beast, huh?" He grins and holds out his hand like he didn't just sell poor Stanley out. Fucking traitor.
"I'm Greyson. Nice to meet you, beautiful."
Tilly falls right into his pathetic thirst trap and accepts the handshake all while fluttering her thick eyelashes up at him.
"I didn't realise you had such a charming roommate, Mr Romano." She giggles with her hand still in Greyson's.
I grip the collar of his shirt and yank him back."I don't. He's just an unwelcome guest that barges in from time to time."
"He's funny, huh?" Grey chuckles, subtly stomping down on my foot. "I'm his best friend. Twin flame, love of his life, the light of his world- you name it. I am it."
I hate him.
"We need to get going so..." I trail off and grimace at the still yapping puppy sat beside me. "His food is by the patio door, toys are in his bed. If you need it, the water gun is in on the kitchen island."
The poor girl looks like she's seen a goddamn ghost. "W-Water gun?"
I hum and pat Stanley on the head. "In case he you know... starts to lose his shit."
"Which he will." Grey coughs into his fist.
What is with this guy and making my dog look like a little shit?
He is. But his new babysitter certainly doesn't need to know that.
"I'll be back in 3 hours. Make yourself at home." I sling my hockey bag up off of the floor and onto my shoulder. Stanley whimpers, clearly aware that I'm leaving him.
I stroke in between his fiery red ears. "Be good for Tilly."
"He won't be." Greyson tells her. "Keep your shoes on your feet if you don't want them to be chewed. Oh, and always remember to-"
"Okay." I cough and put my hand over his big fucking blabber mouth. "That's enough from you."
The girls face looks like a smacked ass. I can tell that Greyson has made her more nervous... and a little scared.
That means it's time for us to haul ass before she quits on me. "See you later, Talulah." I rush out, dragging Grey by the collar out of my front door.
"God be with you!" He yells to her and salutes like she's going into a war.
I slam the door shut behind us before she can reply with any protests or, God forbid, ask any questions.
I've found that with Stanley, it's best to just not ask any questions. That only makes things worse. For all of us.
"She was so young." Greyson sniffles as we trudge down the hall. "So innocent. She deserved better."
I roll my eyes and swipe my bag behind his knees, causing him to buckle down to the floor. "She's not dead, you fool."
"She may as well be." He huffs, dusting his knees off and jogging to catch up with me. "Stan is going to eat her alive and spit her right back up."
"That's a little dramatic."
No it's not. Not at all.
Let's hope to God this dog behaves himself.
✩✩✩
My apartment is a war zone.
It's almost like an airplane of feathers exploded above us, covering every inch of space from the living room down to my bedroom.
The glass coffee table is smashed. My pillows shredded. My rug torn. The patio doors are smeared with nose smudges and dirty paw prints.
I'm just thankful there are survivors... And that I kept that cleaning company on speed dial.
"He is by far the worlds worst dog!" Tilly screams at me as she frantically gathers her stuff. "I have never seen such an untrained animal even be allowed to be near humans!"
Ouch. I look to Stanley's pouty face. "That's a little harsh, huh, buddy?" I whisper as quietly as possible to avoid another tantrum from Miss Professional Dog-sitter.
"You have no right leaving him with anyone ever again! I'm traumatised forever!" She screeches.
Now that is dramatic. "Look, Talulah-"
"Tilly!" Her scream pierces my eardrums.
"Wowzer." I press my finger to my ear. "Sorry, Tilly, but I did say online that Stanley is a little difficult. You said that you had some experience with troubled animals."
She scowls down at Stan. "Yes, troubled. Not demonic! That dog is a savage!"
Savage? No, no.
Savage is what my college hockey coach was.
Stanley is just... temperamental.
"I'm sorry- but did he bite you?" I deadpan.
"Well, no but-"
"Did he attack you?" I hope to God not. Stanley likes to shred all my furniture and bark until the entire neighbourhood wishes they were deaf- bur he doesn't hurt people.
He only ruins all of my possessions!
"No, he didn't. But I think-"
"So why is he a savage beast?" She didn't say the beast part, I added that all on my own, but it's probably quite fitting.
Tilly flaps her hands around the room. "Look at what he did to your furniture! He destroyed all of your things!"
"Exactly. My things. My furniture." I pick one of Stanley's chew toys up from the floor and throw it across the room for him to go fetch.
"That means it's my problem, Talulah." I watch her fists clench tightly by her side with amusement. "I really am sorry that he was an asshole to you."
Stan yaps from down the hall in disagreement.
"Here, have an extra fifty." I pull the bill out of my gym shorts and hand it to her. "See you tomorrow?"
If I thought she was angry before boy, oh, boy. I hadn't seen nothing yet.
"You better be joking."
My hand flies to cover my mouth as I yawn. "I don't joke, kid."
Without warning, even so much as a curtesy countdown, Miss Crazy Pants screams bloody fucking murder.
I can practically see her uvula shake with the sheer velocity of her screeching. It takes everything in my power to not cover my ears.
Instead, I protect Stanley's from the banshee's wail.
"Rot in hell, Logan Romano!" Tilly howls and sprints out of my living room, through the open front door and down the hall of my building- all while shrieking her heart out.
"Not the first time I've been told that, aye, Stan?" I can't help but chuckle and swing the door shut behind me.
I fall back onto the couch, feathers flying up into the air from the impact. Stanley joins me with the biggest of grins.
If I didn't know better, I'd say the puppy was proud of himself.
"That's the 6th dog-sitter this month you've scared off." I scold but still let him rest his head on my lap.
His big puppy dog eyes always manage to tempt me into forgiveness.
"And you owe me new couch pillows." He lets out a whimper at the God-awful news. "Why don't you like any of these people, huh?"
Stanley tilts his head as if to say 'why'd you think, dumbass'.
"You only put up with me... And I guess that weird girl from the party." I chuckle at the thought of the blonde, rambling, half-naked, chick.
As much as she freaked me out, from falling asleep in my bathroom and everything, she definitely is intriguing, a little mysterious and fucking odd.
Blondie successfully grabbed my attention. And then proceeded to sprint away from it.
"If only she could come and look after your needy ass. Then all our problems would be solved and-"
Holy shit.
I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner. The answer has been staring me square in the face this whole time.
"You're pretty smart, you know that?" I praise Stan with a scratch under the chin. "You know who isn't smart?"
He tilts his head in what, I like to think, is questioning. "Your Uncle Greyson's not smart. No, he's actually a dumbass."
With all due respect and all that, of course.
"But here's some words you'll never hear me say again, Stan." I slip my phone out of my back pocket and scroll for his number.
"We need that dumbasses help."
|✩✩✩|
Hi hi friends💕
How are we all doing??
How did we like this chapter??
I am absolutely LOVING being inside of Logan's brain. I'm honestly having so much fun. Too much maybe😂🙈
Also i adore Greyson sm🥺 i thank the high heavens that I have these two goons to carry on writing even with Breaking The Ice is finished💕
Can y'all please lmk how we feel about chapter length?? I'm honestly really liking it.
Most chapters of this story have been 2-3000 and that feels like a good amount. Let me know!
Also, I'm going back to University and won't have AS much time to write- but I'm hoping to still upload frequently for y'all💕
Hopefully not too long until the next one!
If you haven't already-
Check out my other story Breaking The Ice.
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Ellie