Something shifted after that afternoon two weeks ago when Chase showed up in the office. At first, I thought it was pity—that Leo had heard the venom in Chase’s voice, seen the way his hand clamped down on my arm, and started seeing me less as someone to begrudge and more as someone to pity.
But then came that night at Howard’s. And there wasn’t a trace of pity in his eyes. Not one. He didn’t hover. Didn’t handle me like glass. He ordered half the damn menu, kept the whiskey flowing, laughed so hard at Skye’s dumb jokes he nearly fell out of his chair. I can’t remember the last time I’d had that much fun outside the safety of our apartment.
And for once, I didn’t have to be on guard. Nobody could hurt me. No man was going to take advantage of me or Skye. We laughed, we drank, we danced. Hell, I even danced with Leo—Leo—for a few songs. And I’ll admit it: the man has some serious moves. Suddenly, Skye’s nickname for his Tinder conquests—the Tinder twats—made a lot more sense. I could see why they lined up to climb him like a tree.
She wasn’t wrong about him. When he wants to be, Leo is pretty great.
That is…when he’s not trespassing in my bathroom.
“Our soap… smells better?” I repeat, incredulous.
“Yep.” He smirks, rinsing his hands. “Plus, it’s quieter in here. No one bothers you.”
“You are literally killing that vibe by being here. Right now.” I blink furiously at the lens on my fingertip, trying not to think about how ridiculous this situation is. I’m half-blind, late, and dealing with a man who has apparently claimed dual citizenship in both bathrooms.
“Do you do this often?”
“Often? Naw.” He steps closer, and suddenly, he’s too close. Close enough that I catch the clean mint of his toothpaste under the warm spice of his cologne. Close enough that I remember the way his scruff brushed my temple on the dance floor.
And then, voice low, he murmurs: “Only when I feel particularly confident I’ll run into you.”
A shiver zips down my spine. I hate that it does.
No. Nope. I do not find him hot. He’s a fuckboy, Tori. A. Fuck. Boy. Every word, every movement, every bit of proximity is deliberate—designed to provoke. And right this second, it’s working.
I snap back, clinging to the one thing still under my control—the contact lens. “You’re unbelievable,” I mutter, focusing on the delicate disc balanced on my finger, as if willing it to slip back into my eye will save me from whatever game he thinks he’s playing.
“Maybe.” His smirk lingers in my periphery. “But you have to admit—it’s a good strategy.”
“A strategy for what? You work in the office next to mine. You see me every damn day. There is no reason for you to sneak into the women’s bathroom to ‘run into me.’”
He grins, cocky as hell. “For cementing myself as your GBF, of course.” And then he winks.
He motherfuckingwinks.
The sound that bursts out of me is part snort, part feral laughter, and completely unhinged. It’s so violent that my poor contact lens launches itself off my finger, sailing into oblivion. RIP, little guy.
“Please, sir, enlighten me,” I manage between hysterics. “Whatexactlydo you think that stands for?”
Leo looks at me like I’ve just asked what two plus two equals. “Guy best friend, obviously.”
I lose it. Doubled over, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes, arms clutched around my stomach.
“Guy.”inhale.“Best.”inhale.“Friend.”inhale.
“Jesus Christ, you’re actually an idiot,” I wheeze, swiping at my face before the non-waterproof mascara betrays me. “This might be the single greatest moment of my life.”
He frowns, brow furrowed in confusion where his smirk used to be. “That’s what it means.”
“No, honey.” I’m still half-laughing, half-choking. “GBF stands forgaybest friend. And you might be a fuckboy, but you sure as shit aren’t gay.”
“Aw, Tote,” he croons, leaning in again, crowding me with heat and scruff and confidence. “Are you jealous? Think calling me a manslut will hide the fact you want this dick?”
He did not.
I stop laughing. Instantly.
I turn, nose nearly brushing his, glaring daggers. “I called you a fuckboy. I have never, not once, called you a man.”
