There's a tense atmosphere lingering in the living room, and I don't know if it's because Arsenal are currently losing at home, or if it's because the notifications on my phone can't seem to stop going off. Either way, it'll be half-time soon, so the idiots sat a few feet away from me had no reason to complain. But as the notification sound rings once more, Jai is quick to crane his neck over his shoulder, shooting me a cold glare.

I swear to fucking God, if you don't turn off your phone in the next two minutes, I'm going to spark you in the jaw,he grunts, tugging at the neck of his Arsenal jersey before returning his gaze on the screen.

Kazuo and Cobie flip me off, eyes darting across the screen, following the movement of the ball. Valentino, on the other hand, can't seem to fucking stop tapping his hands against the countertop. I snap my head in his direction, raising my arm before ramming it into his side. The shit-eating grin on my lips doesn't fade as he groans in pain, releasing a string of curses as his face contorts into one of fury.

Forearms resting against the kitchen countertop, I grab my glass of orange juice before picking up my phone. I can feel Valentino glaring holes into my side, but I choose to ignore him and unlock my phone.

Though I'm greeted with two unprecedented notifications from a girl I want to forget, and another notification from a girl that's been running laps in my head all day. My eyes dart up at the sound of the half-time whistle ringing throughout the room, using the opportunity to open Aiyana's message-and completely disregarding Millie's-and boy, did I have a surprise waiting for me.

Lips against the edge of my glass, I tip my head back as my thumb swipes across the notification. The bitter liquid runs down the back of my throat, but as soon as our conversation appears, the drink is coming right back up.

I spit out my drink, spluttering at the images appearing on my screen. Eyes wide, I barely register the sheer, lacy material clinging to her silky skin, cupping her full breasts, or the way the material compliments her brown tone as my phone drops onto the counter with a loud clash, a hand to my mouth as I cough harshly, throat drying up. Though the pain in my chest eventually subsides when Valentino slaps-more like punches-my back a number of times.

What the fuck was that?I hear Kazuo ask, tone dripping in curiosity as he stands, making his way towards me. Which one of your bitches sent you a nude now?

By now, the four of them have me surrounded, attempting to peer over my shoulder to see what the fuss was about. Before Valentino can reach for my phone, I'm ducking under his arm and grabbing my phone. My thumb presses against the lock button before any one of them have the chance to sneak a glimpse at the screen.

Your mum, you fat fuck,I grunt out, flipping the four of them off and turning my back. Mind your fucking business.

Judah is a psychopath, I'm calling it now. All he knows is violence, Cobie says, shivering dramatically. He hums to himself, manoeuvring around me as he pokes his head in the fridge. When he decides there's nothing of his taste, he slams the fridge door and pulls out his phone to dial a number.

What are you hiding, Judah?Kazuo asks again, squinting his eyes at me in suspicion. When I choose not to respond, he turns to Valentino. Sort your brother out, will ya? I, Kazuo Saito, hereby give you permission to slap the motherfucker silly.

Kazuo grins at me, raising both his middle fingers.

I turn to Valentino and stare at him blankly, If you raise a single finger, I'm going to fuck you up. I will send you to our old man. Don't try me, Val.

Valentino snorts in amusement and pats my shoulder. Oh, brother. The only thing that scares me is Aiyana sleep-deprived, but nice try. Soft bitches like you don't scare me.

At the mention of Aiyana's name I can't help but tense up, but the subtle movement goes unnoticed. And when Cobie calls the three of them over, asking for their Nando's order, I take the opportunity to dip to my bedroom.

Before I know it, I'm pulling up the idiot's chat, and when the images of her in lingerie fill my screen, I'm left groaning at the sight. A part of me tries to ignore it, to delete the messages, but the harder I stare at my screen, trying to string together something to say-knowing it was a mistake on her part-the more I'm left speechless.

And the raging boner in my boxers seems to agree.

this is terrible i'M SORRY