“No”—she steps up, anger in her voice—“because you know I love it when you fuck me. Because you know I can’t resist you in that way. You took a vulnerable moment, and you took advantage of me.”

“I fucked up, Myla. Okay? I should never have gone that far with you. I wanted to remind you who you belong to—”

“I didn’t need the reminder. From the moment you first kissed me, I’ve been branded by your lips, rightfully yours. But not anymore.”

“We sure as fuck belong to each other until those papers are signed,” I yell, my irritation spiking before I can tamp it down. “Last night was a reminder.”

“Well, I don’t need it. I know exactly who you are to me. So now that we have that covered, let’s talk about the house rules.”

I lean against the counter and fold my arms over my chest. “Oh, this should be good.”

From the kitchen junk drawer, she pulls out a piece of paper with a list of rules.

Holding it up for her to see, she starts listing off her demands with a touch more assertiveness. “The garage fridge is mine, and anything marked with a pink sticky note is mine. Don’t eat my food. If you’re hungry, go stock up on those protein bars you love so much.”

“Fine.” This entire thing is so stupid, as is her way to gain control of the situation. Just like last night was my way to gain some sort of semblance of control when I felt like I was spiraling. Was it the right thing to do? By no means, no, it was not. But I was afraid she might revert to how she and Nichole used to hang out before I came along.

“We’ll split up the house so we aren’t forced to be around each other. Therefore, the first floor is my space since the guest room is located there. Meaning, I get the living room. The kitchen is a neutral space. We are allowed in and out of this neutral space at our leisure. Food is the only thing off limits.”

“But the living room is where the TV is located. And since you don’t like TVs in the bedroom, how the hell am I supposed to watch my games?”

She turns, hiding the smirk playing on the corner of her lips. “Hmm, didn’t think about that.” Bullshit. “You might have to skip out on those sports games you like to watch so much.”

“Baseball. You know what sports games I watch.”

“Moving on,” she says. “The pool is also a neutral zone since it’s hot and we both enjoy a dip, but please note that the right side of the pool belongs to me and the left side belongs to you.”

“I prefer the right,” I say just out of spite.

“I know.” She smiles. “That’s why I took it. If you had taken the time to make the rules, then you could have chosen.”