TROUBLE, A New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) by Elle Casey Page B

nightmare.
    “She likes my cooties, don’t ya, Liss?”   He nudges me in the shoulder with his elbow, acting all casual about it.
    I look away.   “No thanks.”
    Mick laughs.   “You sticking around for the game?”
    “Maybe.   Who’s playing?”
    “Spain and Brazil.”
    “Yeah.   I’ll stay.”   Colin looks over at Rebel.
    I pretend that the arrangement of olives on my pizza is very, very critical to its enjoyment while I listen for Colin’s next words.   He seems … nervous or unsure of himself.
    “Yo, Rebel.   I was thinking … are you using the attic?”
    Rebel stares at his brother for a few seconds before turning to look at Teagan.   He says nothing, but she speaks up.
    “It’s full of dust and rat turds.   Why?”
    “I was up there the other day and it actually has some great light coming in from those skylights and the round window under the gable. It would make a great painting studio.   If you’re not using the space, I’d rent it from you.”
    “What about your apartment?” Quin asks.   “Don’t you usually paint there?”
    “Yeah, but it’s getting too crowded.   And covered in paint. Got some on my stereo the other day.”
    “Doesn’t bother me,” Rebel says, going back to focusing on his pizza.
    “Me neither,” says Teagan. “But you’d have to clean it up when we move out.   I’m not losing my part of the security deposit because you destroyed the upstairs.”
    “Not a problem.”   Colin looks to Rebel.   “We cool?”
    Rebel nods.
    No one seems to realize what a bad idea this is but me. I squirm in my seat, wishing someone would ask me for my opinion.   I mean, I know I’m not paying rent, but I live here too.
    “What’s the matter, Alissa?   You have a problem with Colin painting here?”   It’s Quin again.   She’s like a darn termite in my brain, eating away at my thoughts and making it impossible for me to just live anonymously in this place.
    “Well, you know … paint fumes aren’t good for babies.”
    “You won’t smell a thing,” Colin says.   “I’ll open a window.”
    “And attics aren’t good for your lungs.   You know, with all the dust and rat … excrement.”
    “A little rat shit never hurt anyone,” he says.
    I can hear the smile in his voice, but I can’t look at his face.   I focus on the fireplace mantle over his shoulder.   “I’m pretty sure it can.   It can cause diseases.”
    “As long as I don’t go blind, I guess I’ll be fine.”
    I sigh out in annoyance.   He’s totally not getting the hint.
    “If he hasn’t gone blind by now, it ain’t never gonna happen,” says Mick, snickering.
    Colin throws a pepperoni at his brother.   “Shut it, shrimp.”
    “Come on over here and say that to my face, painter pansy.”
    Colin drops his pizza on my plate and leaps up off the chair.   Mick is gone and out the back door before I even have time to blink.
    The two of them are wrestling on the back lawn by the time we all reach them.   This time, though, they’re laughing as they exchange insults.
    “Painter pansy? Painter pansy?   I’ll give you a painter pansy.   How ‘bout this, grease monkey?   You like that?”   Colin is shoving Mick’s face into the grass.
    Mick bucks his brother off his back and dives on him before Colin can roll over.   “Grease monkey?   How about this?   You like that?   Fucking twinkle toes I-need-a-painting-studio freak.”   He smashes a handful of weeds and dirt into the side of his brother’s face.
    “Oh … my … goodness,” Teagan says, shaking her head.   “Brotherly love.   Another reminder about how lucky I am to be an only child.”
    “Not all brothers are as idiotic as these two,” says Quin.
    No sooner are the words out of her mouth than I hear, “Mickeeeyyyy!” being shrieked over my shoulder.   I turn around in time to see a small boy with his arm wrapped up in a sling flying through the house towards us.
    I step to the side so he can