I flung his hand off of me and sat up, horrified. Horrified at him, and horrified at my own reaction (which wasn’t all rage). “What are you doing?”
He didn’t open his eyes, simply burrowed deeper into my pillows. “Sleeping.”
“No! You can’t sleep in here! What are you doing in my room, you idiot?”
He mumbled something that sounded like ‘I’m the celebrity and I should get whatever room I want’.
I jabbed him with my finger and looked over at the clock. 5:55 in the morning. Five minutes before my alarm was set to go off. “You can’t have whatever room you want. I’m in this one. I gave you the big one because you’re the celebrity!”
“Windows,” he mumbled into my pillow. “Want the one without the windows. Hurts my head.”
Oh, he wanted his head to hurt, did he? I leaned into his ear. “FUCK YOUR HEAD. GET OUT OF MY BED.”
He groaned and jerked upright, knocking his skull into my nose.
I gasped, flying backward, my fingers clutched to my nostrils. Blood was suddenly gushing from my nose. “Fuck!”
He was instantly awake, sitting up in the bed. His hand clutched his head. “Oh shit. You okay?”
I ran to my bathroom, flicking the light on and reaching for a towel, not answering him. Blood was everywhere.
“Shit. Shit shit shit,” he moaned. I heard the bed creak even as I pressed the towel to my nose, waiting for it to stop bleeding. “Fuck, Zorba, I’m sorry.”
“Zara,” I told him, my voice muffled from the towel.
“Zara,” he echoed. “Zara. Zara. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bloody your nose.” Ty gave me a chagrined look. There were dark rings under his eyes, and he looked like a mess. “You just startled the hell out of me when you yelled in my ear.”
I shot him the bird, still pressing the towel to my nose with my other hand. “I’m going to have two black eyes now, thanks to you.”
“Ah f**k,” he rubbed a hand down his face. “Great. Now I’m going to have the reputation of beating up girls as well as biting noses.”
“I’m not a girl, remember? I’m just a stick with a mouth,” I said bitterly.
“Actually, I felt your tits. They’re pretty good, given that you look like you’re fourteen.”
“Fuck you! I’m twenty-five!”
“I know, I know.” He raised his hands in the air, apology on his rough features. “Can we talk about this, Zara? Come to a compromise?”
“You’re not getting my room!”
He looked confused for a moment, and then rubbed a hand down his face. “Not that. I don’t give a shit about that now. But if my manager sees you with two black eyes and the camera crew films that? I’m done. I’m so done. Here.” He shoved my makeup bag at me. “Put some powder or girl shit on it and cover it up.”
“No. I’m going to tell everyone you head butted me.” I’d just leave out the part where it was an accident. “At least this way, I can salvage my career.”
“It would totally f**k me. Come on, Zara, please.” He dropped to his knees, and I realized for the first time that he was wearing a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. His big, muscular body flexed as he clasped his meaty hands in front of him in a supplicating pose. And his thighs? When he knelt, his thighs were nothing but enormous cords of muscle. The athlete in me really liked that. Far too much.
“Look,” he said, giving me a sincere expression of misery. “This is me, begging you for mercy. It’ll totally screw me over if they think I hit you on purpose. After my last incident, no one will think it’s an accident.”
“Well, we can just tell them the truth,” I said, too-sweetly. “I’ll just say that you got totally plastered and crawled into my bed, and when I tried to get away from you, you head butted me.”
He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I am so f**king screwed.”
“Unless…” I teased, checking the washcloth and turning it. Still bleeding. Ugh. He’d smacked me good.
Ty looked up at me with so much hope in his eyes that I felt a twinge of pity for the guy. I knew what it was like to f**k up and have everything come crashing down around you. Also, his big pale eyes were kind of sexy. Silvery, almost. Normally they made him look mean, but right now? I kind of liked it.
“Unless you promise to take this whole ice dancing thing seriously,” I told him, pulling the wad of fabric away from my nose and checking my face in the mirror. My normally tiny nose looked like a potato, and my eyes were already swelling. Lovely. The bleeding had mostly stopped, though, and I looked over at Ty. “I will go out there and tell everyone I practiced late. No, that we practiced late. You had a change of heart and came back. My toe pick got caught on something, and I miscalculated and landed on my face.”
Hope lit up his brutish features, and for the first time since I’d met him, Ty didn’t seem like a Neanderthal or a caveman. He was actually kind of cute when he wasn’t scowling or drunk. His face was a little more rugged than I liked normally, and he’d definitely taken several hard punches to the face, but he had an appeal to him when he was looking up at me like that. “You’d do that for me? Lie to everyone?”
“I will…if,” I said, and I made sure to emphasize the ‘if.’ “If you take this seriously.”
He considered me for a long, long moment, those silver eyes regarding my face. “How seriously?”
“You know what? Never mind—”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Ty got up from his knees and grabbed my arms when I turned away. “You mean the dancing shit, right? Fine, fine. I’ll go to practice.”
“No, you’ll go to practice early and you’ll stay late,” I corrected. “Just like me. And I’ll go on and on about how nice of a partner you are, and how sweet and caring. And you’re going to work your tail off for this and make us both look good. It’s not just your career on the line here, buddy. It’s mine, too. If I don’t look good this season I won’t get asked back again.”
“No sequins?” He looked dubious. “I really, really refuse to wear sequins.”
“What is it with you and sequins?” I gave him an exasperated look. “No embarrassing costumes for either of us. We both take this seriously and come out of this to fix our careers, okay? All I want from you is that you work hard and don’t quit.”