Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
“St. Pierre,” I say into a nod. “Makes sense. Full picture.” I wave a hand in front of his face.
He nods. “How’d you all learn? Fancy private school?” He looks more to Eliot.
So my brother answers, “Our parents were taught French in prep school. They taught us when we were kids, so we were all fluent before kindergarten.”
Phoenix doesn’t seem surprised. He slides his helmet off the counter. “We moving to the bedroom?” he asks me.
Eliot’s grin is too wicked to ignore, and I’m just thankful Phoenix isn’t paying him any attention now.
“Yeah,” I say. “Follow me.”
Eliot lifts a couple fingers. “Ravi de t’avoir rencontré.” Nice meeting you.
Phoenix nods back. I’m shocked Eliot leaves it at that. Not shocked when my brother raises his voice when we’re halfway down the hall. “Ne t’amuse pas trop sans moi!” Don’t have too much fun without me!
“Je ne le ferais jamais!” I shout back. I would never.
Phoenix smiles a little, and I’m going to believe he’s in love with my French accent. Then he asks, “Your roommate here?”
My face scorches with heat. “Uh, no. Ben left for hockey practice.”
“I meant the bird.”
I restrain a laugh. “Yeah, but I already put him in his cage for you, and the privacy curtain is drawn so you won’t even see him on Ben’s side.”
Phoenix just opens my door as if it’s his room. Which is fine. It’s cool. It’s not turning me on at fucking all.
29
TOM COBALT
My neck feels like it’s sustained a five-hour sunburn by the time I shut the door behind us, and I expect Phoenix to make a comment on it. But he’s digging through his unzipped backpack.
“Here.” He tosses a bottle at me, and I fumble it in my hands. It hits the floor with a thud.
“So you’re not good at everything, nepo baby.”
“That’s so untrue. I am good at most everything, and I can catch. You just caught me off guard.” I pick the drink off the floor, and my brows furrow when I read the label. Pedialyte.
My heart hammers in my chest, and Phoenix holds up a couple bananas by the stem. “Second chance.” He barely gives me time before throwing the fruit underhanded at me, and I’m able to catch it in the crook of my elbow.
Gloating drowns under my confusion, and my pulse thumps loudly in my ears. “What is this?”
“Stuff for your hangover.” Nonchalantly, he sinks down on my bed like this is nothing. It’s not nothing. Not to me. Warner couldn’t be bothered to even bring me a cough drop when I had bronchitis for two weeks.
Obviously, I shouldn’t be making a big deal out of it since Phoenix is acting like he brought me a guitar pick. Maybe he does this for everyone in his life who drinks too much and makes an absolute fool of themselves.
I just don’t know if I deserve it.
Mister Feathers lets out a sudden high-pitched, “Come here! Come here!”
Phoenix tries not to appear unsettled, but the minute an incessant, metal tapping noise begins, he cringes. “That is creepy as fuck.”
“You’re thinking about the cockatoo all wrong.”
“Please explain.” He places his backpack on my bed.
“He’s drumming against the cage. He loves sound and loves the company of others. He’s basically—”
“You?”
“Ha-ha. I was going to say a performer.”
“So you,” he deadpans.
I give him a middle finger while I debate locking my bedroom door. Do I need to? No, no. If one of my brothers barges in here, it’s fine. I’m not hooking up with Phoenix.
Nothing can happen.
I made that very clear last night. To him and myself. My stomach is a pretzel as I walk away from the unlocked door.
Phoenix plugs in the charger to the outlet beside my bed and connects his phone. He unties each boot, then pries them off before he brings his legs up to my black comforter. I watch him shrug off his motorcycle jacket. His very tight long-sleeved tee molds to the mountains and valleys of muscle along his arms.
Before he catches me staring, I untwist the cap to the Pedialyte. “Thanks,” I tell him and guzzle half the bottle before setting it on my nightstand with the bananas.
Phoenix’s eyes flit over me as he grabs his journal. “We should talk about last night.”
My lips vibrate under an explosive breath. Mortified heat expands through my chest. “Yeah. Yeah. Dude. Last night was not my best. I can admit I drank too much after I saw you kissing Big Red.”
Phoenix glares. “I want to appreciate the honesty, but the fuck—Big Red?”
“I’m not talking about his dick size.”
“No shit.”
“He was as tall as you,” I clarify. “Hey, that means you’re basically Big Bir—”
“Finish that sentence, and I will walk out of this room.” He closes his journal and rises to his feet to emphasize the threat.
I smile, but it fades fast when last night replays in my head. All jokes aside, the bitter jealousy still sours my stomach worse than the hangover.