Logan Romano took the NHL like a hurricane- dark and brooding.
With his natural talent, brute force and sheer determination, he goes completely unchallenged both on and off the ice.
He's notorious. Both for his success and his stormy personality...
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"That'll be $207.60."
Greyson tips his sunglasses down to the end of his nose, a small squeak coming out of his mouth.
"You're joking." He giggles, then smirks and points a chubby finger at my unamused face. "It's funny, really, it is. Good one."
I push the bill across the table. "Cash or card?"
My own smirk develops as Greyson's drops off.
"You're being serious?" He pushes his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.
"As the fucking plague." I reply, taking a long sip of my scolding hot coffee. I make sure to add extra slurping noises just to get under Grey's skin.
He mumbles curses under his breath. "Why the fuck should I pay for your house to be cleaned?"
"Oh, I don't know." I glare at his stupid face. Even just looking at this man makes me angry.
Seriously, what kind of idiot wears sunglasses indoors? The seriously hungover kind, that's who.
"Maybe you have to pay because it was your party, your friends, your booze that got spilt all over my carpet and-"
"Okay, okay. I get it, jackass, no need to continue."
But I do think that there is a need. "It's your fault my microwave broke, your fault all my guest bedrooms stink of sweat and sex-"
"Like they didn't smell of that before." He mutters.
I ignore his snide dig and finish off my lists of things that are most definitely his fucking fault.
"And it's your fault I had to bash my bathroom door off it's fucking hinges."
"Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah." Greyson rushes out, his hand flying up. "The other shit I can accept but that? How the fuck is that my fault?"
I walk over to the other side of my kitchen island and snatch Grey's half-finished coffee out of his hands. He whimpers, just like Stanley does when I accidentally stand on his tail, when I tip the remnants down the sink and place the mugs neatly in the dishwasher.
"Because it was one of your little friends that got fucking trapped in there. With poor Stanley too."
His eyebrows furrow. "You're gonna have to rewind a little here, buddy. You've totally lost me."
"What's new?" I whisper to myself. Clearly not quietly enough though because Grey lets out the bitchiest whine.
"Some blonde girl; younger, short as fuck, pretty face, has a damn rambling problem?" He looks just as confused as before. "I think her name was Nova? She was quite a mumbler though, so, fuck knows."
Greyson's face splits into a shit eating grin and I dread to think what stupid comments he's got lined up in that head of his. "You met Nova?"
"Less met... More she cock-blocked me. But yeah, for some fucking reason she fell asleep on my bathroom floor. Half naked."
