Candy grips my upper arm. “Um, no way. You’re not going anywhere. I’m gonna need backup.”
I try to pull away from her, but she packs a lot of strength in those hands. “What you’re going to need is to let go of me so that I can go.”
“Cállate. You ain’t going anywhere, chula.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m too young to die.
She doesn’t let go of me and walks past three more doors. The music gets louder and louder the closer we get to the hallway’s end. She stops at a door labeled 13666 and takes a deep breath. Now I’m really worried because seriously? You couldn’t pay me to live at an apartment with both the numbers 13 and 666 in the address.
“¡Abre la maldita puerta ahora mismo, Carter!” Candy’s screams pierce my ear drums and make them explode.
Okay, fine, maybe not actually explode, but they might as well have. “Please tell me you’re just pissed that the music is loud and that we’re not going to be walking into some satanic ritual or something.”
Candy taps on the door and furrows her brow. “Nah, we do satanic rituals on Tuesday. Está bien. I’m pissed because mi hermano idiota,” she yells and hits the door again, “is using my freaking speaker! ”
Who is she? The door swings open, and a tall, scowling guy is standing in the way, glaring at the pink-haired girl next to me.
Alright…who is he?
Because I’m suddenly all choked up and can’t form a proper sentence when he glances at me, looks me up and down with green eyes, then says, “Who the hell are you?”
“I-I could ask you the same question,” I retort, but it lacks its usual punch, and he can tell because he quirks the corner of those delicious rosy lips.
He turns around and yells, “Shut off the music, idiots!”
He’s like if Shawn Mendes and Diego Boneta had a baby that came straight from the fiery depths of Hell (isn’t that where all hot guys come from?).
The bass fades out and the walls stop shaking. However, Candy, does not. She’s like a bottled up piece of dry ice where all the steam rises, and it’s going to boom! make some type of bomb. That’s a thing, right?
Pretty sure that’s a thing.
Her glower twists her glossy red lips up to her button nose, and Carter takes the opposite approach by beaming toward her. I swear, a sparkle just lit up on his teeth with his cutesy-boy grin. It’s like a weird dream that I can’t stop watching. They both make different facial expressions at each other, their eyes never straying from the other’s face.
The longer my head moves back and forth, the more I feel like I’m watching the championship game at Wimbledon. And then, more of their similarities and differences manifest. They’ve each got golden-brown skin and green eyes. Everything else, different.
Carter is easily 6’3”. Candy is pushing, I don’t know, maybe 5’2”? He’s some sort of athlete, as is obvious from the way his muscles are straining his shirt sleeves. Candy is petite. And well, for one thing, as hot as Candy is, I’m not thinking about kissing her. But Carter, on the other hand, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind running my hands through his hair, down his neck, his chest, those abs—
“Do you forgive me now?” His husky voice shatters my little fantasy.
Candy sighs. “No lo vuelvas a hacer, ¿de acuerdo?”
“Did I miss something? You guys didn’t speak one word.” My neck is sore from moving between the two so much.
“Probablemente,” they both respond at the same time.
Candy shrugs. “You were too busy checking out mi hermano.”
My jaw drops. “I was not!”
Carter steps aside so we can walk in. “You were.” He puts his hand on my back and ushers me through, closing the door behind us all. “Está todo bien. I returned the favor.”
Aaaand, my cheeks are burning. Afraid saying anything else will lend me another chastising, I follow Candy into the apartment.
Inside, three other guys sit on a black leather couch. It’s one of those modern-design, low to the floor ones, and it makes the couch look extremely small with how large each of these dudes are. “What’re they putting into their Wheaties in the morning? They’re all jacked.” I say it under my breath to Candy so no one else can hear.
She laughs. “They look tough, but on the inside, they’re a bunch of softies. You’ll like them.”
I’m not too sure about that, because the only one that’s caught my eye is Carter. And I have a feeling he’ll be off limits thanks to my new friendship with Candy.
“Want something to eat?” she asks, walking into the kitchen. “Welcome to the kitchen a la Candyland.”
The guys grumble, and Carter rolls his eyes. “No way are we calling this place Candyland.”
She places her hands on her hips, ready to square off with her brother once more. The least I can do is help. I mean, she had my back with Ben. “I think it’s a cool name. Chicks will dig it.”
To me, it comes out nonchalantly, but Carter’s got that little smirk back on his face, so we can probably mark it up as a loss.
He plays with a rubber band on his wrist, eyes not leaving mine. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and I bite the inside of my cheek. The last guy I kissed was Ben, and that was six months ago.
“Ay Dios mío, just get a room already,” Candy grumbles as she puts grapes into a bowl and washes them off in the stainless sink. “Les, meet my twin, Carter. Carter, Les. You didn’t even ask for her name.”
“Maybe no lo necesito.” He walks toward Candy, steals a grape, and tosses it into his mouth.
“Whatever. She’s unavailable, anyhow.” She shoves him away from the bowl.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Um, no,” I give Candy a disapproving glare, “it is definitely not so. But at the same time, slow down. Maybe I’m not interested.”
Before I can say anything else, he walks over and slings a heavy arm over my shoulders. He smells like cinnamon, which is such a strange thing for him to smell like, but I want more of it. “Is that so?” he says again.
I nod and grab his hand, moving to take his arm off of my shoulders. Instead, he threads his fingers through mine, and I’m here for it. Settle down, stomach. With his perfect face and hair that’s just slightly wavy, I could run my hands through it, pull him closer to me—gah! What am I doing? What I meant was with his perfect face, Carter is obviously a notorious hooker-upper. Wait, that’s not a word. Although, it’s not technically wrong if he hooks up with a bunch of people. Carter the hooker…upper?
Their apartment door swings open without a knock. “Sorry I’m late guys, I had class and—What the hell is going on here?”
“Ben?” My gut roils, and I scramble away from Carter’s side. I shouldn’t have anything to worry about, but the way Ben is standing in the doorway with his mouth agape makes me feel guilty.
Candy giggles, doubling over and slapping her hand on her thigh. “Bryce?! This day just got a thousand times better.”
Ben pinches his nose. “It’s Ben.”
Carter finally lets go of my hand, but not before using it to pull me into his side once more. “For the record, I am interested,” he whispers in my ear and then saunters off to Ben, slapping him on the back with a devilish glare twinkling in his eye.