First, my f-boy of an older brother, and second, his seriously hot best friend (who I seriously hate).

This was a last resort.

No one should be sleeping on a futon that smells like Cheetos and hot sweat.

But here I am, trying to get my life together.

Tristan Stiles is the bane of my existence.

He never wears a shirt.

We can't seem to stop fighting.

He's an arrogant playboy with a filthy reputation.

Sure, I had a crush on him when I was fourteen but that was a long time ago.

I know better than to trust him.

I just need to survive long enough to find a new job and get a new place.

And not accidentally let Tristan show me exactly how well deserved his reputation is.