Sheridan Anne

I’m not the girl who runs; I’m the one who hangs around to see how many heads I can make roll. I’m the girl who seeks it out. I’m that bitch. The one who guys like this need to watch out for.

Dickheads like you are always down for a bit of action, but it’s not so much fun when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?

What can I say? Some girls like to rebel with tattoos, drugs, and alcohol. Beating the ever-loving shit out of predators like this is my vice, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

What can I say? I’m not the kind of girl to skip out on an opportunity when it’s looking me right in the eye. I’m going to grab it with both hands and let it take me for the ride of my life.

We all need a little stupidity in our lives. Otherwise, we’d all be bored.”

Why is it so hard for males to string one single sentence together? Come on, is it really that hard? I guess no matter where you go, men are always the same.

I scoff, looking back at the TV, fearing that if I stare at his handsome face for too long that I might just introduce it to my brass knuckles.

I have to get out of here.

All four boys watch me. Grayson with annoyance, Cruz with suspicion, Carver with confusion, and King with one hell of a steamy secret. I finish my coffee as fast as humanly possible.

No, I don’t want to choose, but why should I? Why can’t a girl have it all?

“I think the bigger question is why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel? Did you just shower?”

“Of course I just showered,” I snap, watching the confusion filter over the guys’ faces. “Do you think I just like to bust into peoples’ homes and walk around in a towel for fun?”