The Boyfriend Rivalry by Milana Spencer

4

Liam: One Bed

I know I promised Kennedy, but I can't do it. Attempting to be halfway nice to Curtis in the car was one of the most difficult things I've experienced in my life. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but it's hard to smile at someone when you want to punch them in the face. Curtis knows something's up. I don't want to deal with him trying to bite my head off because he thinks I've got some evil plan to mess with him.

Hours later, we stop at another service station, and Bonnie lets me stay in the passenger seat. I don't know what I'd do if I had to sit close to Curtis for the final hours of the drive.

It's dark by the time we get to the coast but I know we're here from the smell of salt in the air. The streetlights and headlights reveal hints of the beach town, with green vegetation and wooden fences that separate the road from the beach. We pass expensive beach houses and rustic restaurants. I spot two ice-cream stores and a surfing equipment store with bright blue bricks.

"Here we are," Erin says once she parks in the driveway of a tall house. I recognise the wooden building covered in white paint. There's an old-fashioned wrap-around porch and I remember there was a hammock in the back. The house has two stories and an attic room.

Tiredly, the five of us pull our luggage out of the car and into the house. Bonnie flicks the lights on, revealing rooms decorated with fake plants, glass jars full of pebbles and driftwood, and rope artwork.

We already had dinner from a fast-food chain on the way here — Curtis looked like he was in physical pain as he ate the unhealthy food, but he didn't complain — so everyone is happy to go straight to bed.

"There are three bedrooms," Erin explains as we gather nearby the staircase. "There's the master," — she points to a doorway down a hallway — "and it's big enough for all three of us girls to share. But there's another bedroom upstairs with two twin beds if two of us want to go there."

"Where am I sleeping?" I ask, wanting to change, brush my teeth, and collapse on the bed.

"You should take the attic room," Erin says. "It's the floor at the top of the staircase, and it has an ensuite. That way the boys can share a bathroom, and the girls can share the other two."

"Great. Goodnight," I say, already pulling my trunk up the stairs.

"You'll be there too, Curtis," Erin says.

I don't have to turn around to know that Curtis is hesitating and sharing looks with Kennedy.

Whatever. I don't care if Curtis convinces the girls to let him sleep with Kennedy. In fact, I'd prefer it, because then I'd get a whole bedroom to myself.

My eyes widen a minute later when I reach the top door. Actually, I would care if Curtis shares with Kennedy. Because that would give the slime-ball the opportunity to —

"Are you going to stand there all day, or open the door?"

I jump. Curtis stands on a few steps below me, which I know is a result of him keeping his distance from me, but it also means I'm even taller than him than usual.

"What?" Curtis snaps when I don't respond.

I smile. "I like looking down at you."

He huffs before brushing past me. Perhaps he doesn't care about keeping his distance after all. He pushes the door open and I trail in behind him. The room has a tall triangular ceiling and the circular window faces the ocean. It's too dark to see anything now, but I know in the morning, the view will be gorgeous.

I set my trunk on the ground and check out the ensuite, whistling appreciatively at the modern bathroom with a large shower. Damn, I remember this house was nice, but this place must cost a fortune.

When I return to the bedroom, I look at the beds.

Correction: bed.

"Oh god," I say. "Is there only one bed?"

Curtis inspects them.

"Didn't Erin say there were two beds?" I think I'm going to be sick.

"Calm down, drama queen," Curtis says. He's pulled the blankets back to reveal the crack between two single beds with identical headboards.

"Oh. Thank god."

"Do you always try to be as insulting as possible?" Curtis moves the bedside table out of the way, then starts separating one bed.

I do the same with the other bed. "How's that insulting?" I ask.

Curtis gives me a look.

"Never mind," I mutter. I push my bed in the opposite direction of Curtis, to a corner nearby the door. I'm breathing heavily, while Curtis moves the bed with ease. Dickhead. He's always rubbing his muscles in people's faces.

It'd be easier for me to take the mattress off first, move the bed, and then move the mattress. But my pride doesn't let me do that.

"You know," Curtis says, "isn't sharing a bed a fanfiction trope?"

"Ha ha," I say through my teeth.

"I'm serious. Isn't it?"

I ignore him. We finish moving our beds and move the bedside tables, so we have one each. "We need to change the blanket for two separate ones," I say, gesturing to the queen-size doona covers piled on Curtis's bed.

"I'll do it," Curtis says, folding it into his arms and disappearing through the doors.

While he's gone, I change into my pyjamas — a pair of black sweatpants — and take my toothbrush and toothpaste into the ensuite bathroom.

My eyes droop down as I brush, but I force myself to stay awake. Not long now, and I'll be able to get into bed. Maybe sharing a bedroom with Curtis will be bearable if I fall asleep immediately every time we're both in the room.

Just as I finish brushing my teeth, I hear Curtis step into the bedroom. He's heavier than me, so his steps creak more than mine.

I rinse my mouth before stepping into the bedroom. His back is to me as he makes his bed. Predictably, he chucked my blanket on top of my bed in a crumpled mess.

"Thanks," I say, walking over to my bed.

He turns around, mouth open to retort then stops. His eyes are on my stomach. I look down, expecting to see something wrong, but it's just my skin. "What?" I snap, fighting the urge to cover myself with my hands, even though I know he's judging my body.

He clears his throat. "Of course you wear black to bed."

I turn away to make my bed and hope he doesn't see my pink cheeks. "I bet your pyjamas are pathetic," I mutter.

I'm right. Five minutes later, Curtis gets changed in the bathroom and returns in long-sleeve grey and white striped pyjamas. The shirt buttons up to his neck.

A laugh bubbles out of me, and I can't stop myself. I was lying on my bed, trying to get to sleep, but my body shakes with laughter.

"What?" he snaps.

"Do you always dress like you're a forty-year-old accountant?" I ask once I've sobered.

"Shut up," he says, padding barefoot to his own bed. He turns the room light off, but he still has his bedside table lamp on, showcasing his pyjamas in all their glory.

"Where's the cap thing?" I ask, pointing to my head.

Curtis looks like he wants to ignore me, but his curiosity wins out. "Cap thing?"

"You know. The pointy cap thing that goes with those pyjamas? It's what the guy from A Christmas Carol wears."

His jaw clenches and I know he knows what I'm talking about. "Leave me alone, Liam."

"Fine," I say, leaning back in my bed and pulling the blanket over me.

I close my eyes, but I can still sense the light from Curtis's lamp.

"Hey," I say, eyes still closed. "Are you going to turn that off?"

"I'm reading."

I open one eye. It's that goddamned investing book.

"Aren't you tired?" I ask.

"I didn't have time to read today, and I have to read every day."

"You don't have to read every day. Turn that lamp off, it's annoying me."

"You can't even see it. Just go to sleep."

"I can see it."

"Turn on your side then."

And sleep facing the wall? No way. I sleep on my back. "Curtis," I groan. "I'm tired."

"For god's sake — look, I'll be a couple of minutes. Can't you wait until then?"

"Fine," I grumble. I'm saying that word a lot tonight. Curtis sure is bossy.

But not bossy enough to get what he wants, because he's sleeping in the attic with me, instead of with Kennedy. I wonder what he said while I was climbing the stairs.

I ask him so.

Curtis looks at me over his book. "I thought you wanted to go to sleep."

"I can't, not until you turn off the lamp."

"You asking me questions makes me take longer to read."

"Stop deflecting. Why aren't you sharing a room without Kennedy?"

His jaw juts out. "Because her parents said so."

"And Kennedy suddenly listens to them?"

"No, but Erin does."

"Sorry man," I say, insincerity dripping off my tongue. "That must suck for you."

"Piss off, Liam."

I remember my promise and drop the topic. I'm too tired to argue anyway, so instead, I gaze at Curtis's face. The lamp light highlights his already golden face, and as he reads the book, a tiny crease appears between his brows. I wonder if he's upset about what I said, or if the book is sharing some concerning information.

Slowly, as he flicks pages, his face softens. So it was me.

Minutes pass, and because I'm in the shadows, Curtis can't see I'm watching him. It's a rare opportunity to study his face. If I squint, I suppose I can see why Kennedy finds him attractive.

I close my eyes. That's enough. I have to remember who he is.