Sonny
This girl was fucking something else.
I’d heard the stories from my father about her. Friend of Hailey’s. Wild party animal. Wild girl. Would sleep with any man that could intrigue her. In some respects, she sounded like any other club bunny.
But there was something different about her.
For one, as simple as it sounded, there was club hot, and there was real-world hot. Club hot was basically the equivalent of porno star—plastic, designed, and so perfectly refined as to feel artificial. Still great for a fuck since they had bigger tits, bigger asses, and just as tight pussies, but there wasn’t something that thrilling about it. It was like only having to cook a dish by throwing it in the microwave.
Leigh, though, was real-world hot. She had a great rack, but it didn’t look inflated. She had a great ass, but as a result of going to the gym, not the plastic surgeon. She didn’t look like she’d had any lipo or wrinkle removal or any other bullshit surgical work done on her face, and her eyes and smile could fucking captivate like no other. If the club bunnies were microwave dinners, she was a Michelin-inspired dish—perhaps not as calorically heavy but fucking better in every sense of the word.
And best of all, because she clearly wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend by the way she acted and because I wasn’t in the hunt for a girlfriend, it felt like I could try for her without much consequence.
Actually, there was one part of that that wasn’t true. It wasn’t so much “try” as “take” based on the way she was leaning forward.
As we all pushed back from our chairs and closed out our tabs, I noticed the other four giving us plenty of space. With that said, I did notice Hailey looking back at me a couple of times as if evaluating me to make sure I didn’t do anything off. It felt…not like she was trying to protect her, but that she was aware of her tendencies to do certain things.
Things I was all fucking for. Who was I to turn down certain sex?
“So, Leigh—”
“Sonny,” my father said. “Come, help us take the food orders and bring ‘em, won’t you?”
Was he fucking cockblocking me?
No, that couldn’t be it. We all did some shitty things to each other, but there were two things that Devil’s Patriots never did—abandon each other in a time of need and cockblock. Granted, while the former was never to be violated, the latter could be ignored by my father when he wanted a girl someone else wanted, but it was rare.
There was probably something more going on here I didn’t know about.
I walked ahead of Leigh, giving her a flirtatious smile on the way, and caught up to my father and Spawn. Hailey and Melissa had stayed behind with Leigh, creating a natural division of the sexes.
“What’s up?”
“Be careful,” my father said in a low-pitch voice. “You’re drawing eyes from people you don’t want to draw them from.”
I knew immediately what he meant. It wasn’t our first time out together.
“I thought Leigh was kind of the party animal, the girl who goes out and goes home with anyone.”
“Yes, but you’re my son, and Hailey is her best friend,” he said. “For whatever reason, that’s weird to them.”
“Melissa’s said basically the same fucking thing,” Spawn added.
“Just lay low and play it cool. You’re not an idiot, but you should know how the Cook sisters feel about it.”
Fair enough.
And as small as it was, it was a gesture that helped thaw some of the tension from earlier. It wouldn’t completely loosen it up—nothing short of King’s death or departure would do that—but it would at least give us the breathing room to have these conversations again.
We got up to a nearby food truck and ordered tacos. Although Leigh came up right behind me and brushed against me—all but confirming that this was still very much working in my favor—I didn’t say anything. When we ate our tacos, I sat next to Spawn and Melissa, across from Leigh but not engaging her in conversation.
But that didn’t mean that we didn’t flirt with each other.
It just meant that it came in small, subtle moments. A look. A smile. A comment followed by a quick glance at the other person. A comment that, taken in a vacuum, meant nothing, like, “Yeah, I like to stay single when things are crazy,” but in the context of the situation told the other something they needed to know.
I wasn’t used to playing this coy game, and to be honest, if Leigh wasn’t as blazingly hot as she was and as great in bed as I suspected her to be, I doubt I would have put forth this much effort. I could have gone back inside, flirted with one of the bartenders, and gone home with her. Or, if I wanted to be really lazy, I could have just opened my phone, found a club bunny, and gotten my dick off that way.
But as they say, variety is the spice of fucking life, and Leigh seemed like an extra spicy kick that would keep me up for a bit.
