Slamming his fist into the wall wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but it was that or punch his roommate. Since the current situation was none of Lonzo’s fault, Larem aimed his temper at something that wouldn’t bruise—or hit back—although right now a good down-and-dirty fight held some appeal. The pain was slow to register, but his blood stood out in stark relief against the white paint.
“Damn it, Larem, was that really necessary? I hope to God you didn’t break anything. It’s your night to do the dishes.” Lonzo’s comment was an equal...