Blindsided (20 page)

“Yeah. Y’all already met her, or did you forget that?” I grunt.

“I’ve never stood in front of a girl this hot that didn’t want me,” Jack says in wonder.

“From the sounds of it,” Leah replies, “you guys don’t do much standing in front of girls. More lying with them.”

“She’s incredible.” Reid turns to me. “Really. Please don’t piss this one off.”

“Too late. I do it on a daily basis.” I shrug. “She’s used to it now.”

Leah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I work three hours into each day purely for you to annoy the crap out of me.”

“I’m honored.”

“You should be. One of those hours used to be for kicking your ass. Now, I allow thirty extra minutes for that.”

“I think I just fell in love,” Reid mutters.

“Well, thanks, darlin’,” I say, ignoring Reid and keeping my eyes on Leah. “But I can think of something better to use that half an hour for.”

“Keep trying, cowboy. Keep trying.” She smirks again, tapping my chest.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jack pauses, looking between us. “You’re telling me you haven’t fucked her yet?”

“
Her
is right here.” Leah waves.

“Not for a lack of tryin’, man. Her pussy is clamped shut tighter than a bank vault.”

“You know, Corey, I’m about to use that half an hour of ass-kicking time.” Leah smiles sweetly at me.

“I can’t believe you’re still around,” Reid tells her, sitting on the sofa opposite us. “It sure isn’t for his fucking charm. Does he have some redeeming quality we haven’t discovered yet?”

I grimace. Assholes.

“I’m still looking,” Leah answers, her eyes trained on the TV. “It’s quite the dig.”

“My redeeming quality is my cock, babe. You don’t have to dig for that. He’ll pop right up if you ask him nicely.” I brush my thumb across her neck.

“Will he stay down if I ask him nicely?”

Jack guffaws into his hand. “She’s got your number, man.”

“Nah. She wasn’t asking it to stay down an hour ago.”

Leah leans forward and grabs the bowl of Doritos I set out. Seeming completely unaffected, she pulls the bowl onto her lap and shoves one in her mouth.

“She looks like she’d like to tear it off right now.” Reid smirks.

“True story,” Jack agrees. “Hey, Leah, do you want his cock up or down?”

“He can shove his dick up his butt if he really wants to.” She chews.

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Feisty.”

“Non-fuck-giving,” she corrects him. “Quite literally.”

I tug on a lock of her hair and bend my head forward. “How can you be so stressed out when you had the best orgasm of your life not so long ago?”

“And what the hell would you know about the quality of my orgasms, Corey Jackson?” She sits up and stares at me. “Maybe my own fingers have given me better orgasms than yours have.”

The guys choke on their laughter.

I stare into her eyes. “Wanna prove it?”

“Maybe I should. Your ego could do with a good sanding off.” She doesn’t flinch. She holds her ground perfectly, her gaze unwavering, the tightness of her clenched jaw showing me just how angry she is right now.

“Again, man, she’s got your number,” Reid says.

“She’s several tickets behind having my number,” I reply, my eyes staying on hers. “She’s just got this awful sassy side that makes her mouth contradict everything her body says. She whispers my name while her body screams it.”

She takes a deep breath, her chest heaving. In a split second, she drops the bowl on the coffee table and gets up. “Excuse me,” she says tightly, slipping past me.

Shit.
“Leah.” I grab for her hand, but she moves out of my way.

She stops at the doorway. “Follow me, Corey Jackson, and I’ll do more than sass you. I’ll rip your fucking arrogant balls from your body.” She turns, her blond hair swinging with the sharp movement, and slams my front door behind her.

I stare at the empty doorway, and fuck, my heart drops. It’s a jolting drop, a guilty one, a fucking ‘what the fucking hell did you just do, you asshole?’ kind of drop.

I swallow. Shit. Why do I hafta turn into such an immature prick when these guys are around?

“Wow,” Reid says flatly, his eyes traveling from the doorway to me. “I think she just friend-zoned you, bro.”

“I think she just fucking
enemy
-zoned you,” Jack adds.

“She something-zoned me, and it ain’t fucking good.” I run my fingers through my hair and drop my head. “Shit.”

Silence lingers in the room. It’s heavy and so saturated in my regret that I could reach out and grasp a handful of it. Fuck, fuck,
fuck.
Why do I always hafta be such a fucking shit? She deserves better than that.

Leah deserves the whole fucking universe handed to her on a silver platter with a red rose and a heart-stopping declaration of love.

Saddest thing is that maybe I could fucking give her that. If I weren’t such an immature, impulsive asshole, maybe I could give her everything she deserves and everything she doesn’t know she wants.

But no—I couldn’t. I can’t. She deserves someone better than me, someone who won’t get to know her just because she’s hot and would probably be a good fuck. She deserves someone who’ll adore her for her, because she’s fucking incredible, amazing, and the closest thing to fucking perfection you’ll find in this city.

She’s adorable and she’s honest and she’s totally gorgeous. She’s sassy, yeah, but she’s strong. She’s hard but she’s soft, she’s secretive but open, and…shit.

I just fucked up royally.

“You’re going after her, aren’t you?”

I look up and meet Reid’s gaze. He’s concerned but amused. Yet he’s confused because this shit makes no sense. I’m not supposed to feel anything for this girl unless it’s arousal. I’m not supposed to give a crap if I piss her off or make her hate me. I’m supposed to move on and find someone else to warm my bed.

But Leah…

“Pussy-whipped,” Jack says, breaking the silence.

I stand and dig my keys from my pocket. I unhook my spare house key and throw it at them. “Lock the door on your way out.”

Then I follow her.

I
slam the front door behind me and throw my keys into the glass bowl on the side so harshly that the clanging sound rings out downstairs. I kick my shoes off and they bounce off the wall. But they’re messy, all over the place, and that makes me mad, too. Why can’t they fall right? Why can’t they just line up perfectly against the wall?

I grab the pumps, yank open the closet door, and throw them in. I slam that door, too, because I need to get rid of this anger. It doesn’t matter that I ran home. It doesn’t matter that my feet hurt because my pumps aren’t made for running or that there’s probably a blister or two on my baby toe.

It just matters that I’m angry. So fucking angry.

“Leah?”

I storm into the front room and stop in the middle of it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I feel…disoriented. Like I’m here but I’m not, like something is missing.

“Honey, are you okay?” Mom stands up and steps toward me.

“I don’t know,” I answer, throwing my arms up. “I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?” She moves again, but I hold my hands in front of me, because no, I don’t want to be touched.

I want to be alone—completely alone.

“Why are guys such fucking assholes, Mom? Why do they feel like they need the need to treat women like their playthings, huh? God!” I run my fingers through my hair and tug on the ends. “Why was I so dumb?”

“Leah, what happened?”

“Corey Jackson happened—that’s what. That childish jackass happened.” I release my hair and stroll into the kitchen for a glass of water. I’d prefer vodka, but whatever. “Seriously, I don’t know what I did to deserve to be treated like I’m a piece of meat, but he’s got it figured out.”

The doorbell rings, which is followed by a series of loud knocks. “Leah!”

I turn to Mom. “I swear to God, Mom, don’t you dare let him in!”

She looks at me, completely torn. “It’s no good yelling at me, honey. Tell him this. Not me.”

“Mom! Oh my God!” I slam the glass down when she disappears and the front door opens.

“Is Leah—”

“Yes.”

Fuck this. There isn’t a bone in my body that wants to see that asshole. Not a single fucking
cell.
I run through the kitchen and up the stairs. Footsteps thunder after me, louder and harsher than mine, desperation reeking in every step.

“Leah.”

“Fuck you.” I reach for my bedroom door, but Corey’s quicker, and he grabs my arm.

He spins me to him. “I’m sorry, all right? That was fucking dumb of me. I shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

“No.” I meet his eyes and shake my head. “Fuck you, Corey. Seriously. Fuck you. Absolutely. I’m not interested in your apologies because they’re for one reason and one reason only.”

“No. Leah, you don’t—”

“Don’t what? Understand it? Get it?
Fuck you!
” I shout, fighting to get him to release me. When he doesn’t, I shove his chest. “I’m not your toy. Do
you
get it? Do you
understand
that? I’m not gonna roll on my back and let you do whatever you want just because you’re Corey Jackson. I’m Leah fucking Veronica, damn it, but I’m also a woman, and I will
not
be treated like some whore off a street corner just because some asshole can’t dedicate his cock to someone for more than an hour!”

“Leah, shit!” He cups my face with his free hand, pulling me toward him. “It’s not like that, all right? Not anymore. You’re more than that!”

“I call bullshit. I call fucking bullshit on every word you say. You’re a charmer, Corey. I’ll give you that. You’re a charmer and you’re a sweet-talker, but you’re also a complete and utter manipulator, and you can kiss my fucking ass.”

“Feel this.” He presses his lips to mine. They’re hot and they’re heavy; they’re bruising and they’re breaking; they’re desperate and they’re pleading. They’re kissing me the way every woman wants to be kissed. Intensely, endlessly, like every second is inching closer to your final breath.

“Feel this, asshole.” My palm connects with his cheek. “Get out,” I say steadily, but I’m shaking. “Get the hell out of my house right now.”

“Leah—”

“Get out!” I shout, my eyes stinging. “I’m worth more than your opinion of me. I’m worth more than the way you treated me ten minutes ago, so get out. Whatever game you’re playing, I quit. I’m done. It’s over. Go play with someone who doesn’t care, because I do. Too much.” I let out a shuddery breath at my admission. “Get out, Corey, and don’t come back. Ever.”

He stares at me. The moment is everlasting. Like a thousand angels are hovering between us, their hearts breaking one by one.

“Go,” I whisper, finally snatching my arm from his grip. “Just go.”

“That’s what you really want?”

I nod. I want him away from him. I want him so far that I won’t be tempted to grab him or fold my arms into him or kiss him. I want him so far that I can forget that he exists—even if it’s only for a second.