I hate him. Chett “Lizard” Connelly, the front man for Steele Hammer, with his arrogant attitude and evil tongue that gave him his nickname. He was a one-night stand that stretched on for two years, a f*ck frienemy who became my roommate until his music career took off. He’s too hot for his own good. I detest his aloof blue gaze with the passion of a thousand dying suns. I despise the smug smile that obliterates my self-control. But most of all, I loathe myself every time I f*ck him. Hating him is easier than admitting the truth. I should have run the moment I saw his stupid, gorgeous face, but I sat on it and fell in love instead.