Chapter 132 (1/2)

“I hope it’s the first. I want her to be happy there,” Landon says.

“So do I, sort of,” I say.

Landon kicks a dirty pair of black jeans out from under his foot.

“Hey, I was going to wear those,” I snap and bend down to grab them.

“Don’t you have any clean clothes?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Have you done any laundry at all since she left?”

“Yes . . .” I lie.

“Uh-huh.” He points to the stain on my black T-shirt. Mustard, maybe?

“Shit.” I pull the shirt off and toss it back onto the floor. “I don’t have shit to wear.” I pull out the bottom drawer of the dresser and let out a relieved breath when I spot a stack of clean black T-shirts in the back.

“What about these?” Landon points to a pair of dark blue jeans hanging in the closet.

“No.”

“Why not? You never wear anything other than black jeans.”

“Exactly,” I retort.

“Well, the only pair of pants you seem to have to wear is dirty, so—”

“I have five pairs,” I correct him. “They just happen to be the same exact style.” With a huff, I reach past him into the closet and pull the blue jeans off of the hanger. I hate these fucking things. My mum bought them for me for Christmas, and I vowed to never wear them, yet here I am. For true love or something. She’d probably swoon.

“They’re a little . . . snug.” Landon bites down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Fuck off,” I say and raise my middle finger, then finish shoving shit into my bag.

Twenty minutes later we’re back in the living room, Richard is still asleep, Landon is still making obnoxious remarks about my fucking tight jeans, and I’m ready to go see Tessa in Seattle.

“What should I tell him when he wakes up?” he asks.

“Whatever you want. It would be quite funny if you fucked with him for a little while. You could pretend you’re me or that you don’t know why he’s there.” I laugh. “He would be so confused.”