Based on what Warren has told me, their relationship is anything but typical. Warren never met Bridgette before she moved in six months ago, but she’s a longtime friend of Brennan’s. Warren says that he and Bridgette don’t get along at all, and during the day, they live separate lives. But at night, it’s a completely different story. He has tried to go into more detail than I care to hear, so I force him to shut up when he begins to overshare.
I’m really wishing he would shut up right now, because he’s in the midst of one of his oversharing moments. I have to leave for class in half an hour, and I’m trying to finish reading a last-minute chapter, but he’s intent on telling me all about last night and how he wouldn’t let her take her Hooters uniform off because he likes to role-play, and oh, my God, why does he think I care to hear this?
Luckily, Bridgette walks out of her room, and it’s more than likely the first time I’ve ever been happy to see her.
“Good morning, Bridgette,” Warren says, his eyes following her across the living room. “Sleep well?”
“Screw you, Warren,” she says in return.
I’m beginning to understand that this is their typical morning greeting. She walks into the kitchen and glances at me, then at Warren seated next to me on the couch. She narrows her eyes at him and turns toward the refrigerator. Ridge is at the dining-room table, concentrating on his laptop.
“I don’t like how she’s up your ass all the time,” Bridgette says with her back to me.
Warren looks at me and laughs. Apparently, Bridgette still assumes I can’t hear her, but I’m not finding much humor in the fact that she’s talking shit about me.
She spins around and eyes Warren. “You think that’s funny?” she says to him. “The girl obviously has it bad for you, and you can’t even respect me enough to distance yourself from her until I’m out of the house?” She turns her back to us again. “First she gives Ridge some sob story so he’ll let her move in, and now she’s taking advantage of the fact that you know sign language so she can flirt with you.”
“Bridgette, stop.” Warren isn’t laughing anymore, because he can see how white my knuckles are, clasped around my book. I think he’s afraid Bridgette’s about to get hit upside the head with a hardback. He’s right to be afraid.
“You stop, Warren,” she says, turning back around to face him. “Either stop crawling into bed with me at night or stop shacking up on the couch with her during the day.”
I drop my book onto my lap with a loud slap, then kick my feet up and down against the floor out of frustration, anger, and flat-out annoyance. I can’t put up with this girl for another second.
“Bridgette, please!” I yell. “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Christ! I don’t know why you think I’m deaf, and I’m definitely not a whore, and I’m not using sign language to flirt with Warren. I don’t even know sign language. And from now on, please stop yelling when you speak to me!”
Bridgette cocks her pretty little head, and her mouth hangs open in shock. She silently stares at me for several seconds. No one in the room makes a move. She turns her attention to Warren, and the anger in her eyes is replaced with hurt. She immediately looks away once the hurt takes over, and she heads straight back to her room.
I glance over to see Ridge staring at me, more than likely wondering what the hell just happened. I lean my head back against the couch and sigh.
I was hoping that would feel good, but it didn’t feel good at all.
“Well,” Warren says, “there goes my chance to act out all the role-playing scenes I’ve been imagining. Thanks a lot, Sydney.”
“Screw you, Warren,” I say, understanding a little bit where Bridgette’s attitude comes from.
I slide my book off my lap and stand up, then walk to Bridgette’s door. I knock, but she doesn’t open it. I knock again, turn the knob, and push the door slightly open to peek inside.