“I can’t help that I’ve got game and he’s eating it up.” The lie tastes bitter. I’m surprised I’m not used to it by now.
“Alright. Calm down, player. Just let me know when the baby is on the way.” She chuckles when I throw a pair of jeans at her.
“Says the one who broke up with their boyfriend and found another within a week.”
“I have game too. A roster, if you will.” Shrugging, she hops off the bench and gives her bowl a quick rinse. “Ugh. I’d rather eat my left tit than go to work.”
I hold up the bralette that some brand sent me. “Now is the perfect time to become a stripper. Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“And make a man happy in the process? I think not.”
Chuckling, I slingshot the bralette into the “keep” pile that’s growing too quickly for my liking. Hoarding will be the death of me.
We say our goodbyes, and she triple-checks that the door is locked behind her before she leaves. It’s a new habit she’s picked up after I found the door wide open in the middle of the night almost two months ago. Nothing happened from it, but we don’t exactly live in the same type of picturesque suburbia as Leo.Here, the likelihood of being murdered in my sleep is low, but never zero.
My unhappy cleaning continues until I receive a reply from Leo that has me grinning.
Leo: I’m going to say this once, and only once.
Leo: Take that back.
My mind conjures up images of his eyes turning possessive as his jealousy becomes a tangible thing with its own heartbeat. It sends a sick thrill down my spine. What I wouldn’t give to experience that in the flesh...
I tug the edge of Leo’s hoodie up to my nose and inhale his two-day-old scent. I’ve learned to rotate his clothing by swapping them out whenever I go to his house, so his smell still lingers in the fabric—and so he doesn’t notice he has a one-day-will-be-welcomed house guest. Spraying his cologne all over my clothes isn’t the same as getting it straight from the source.
Mina: Or what? I can support any team that I want.
Leo: Baby girl, I could do things to you that you couldn’t even dream up.
I can’t help it. I giggle like an idiot.
Baby.
Girl.
Baby girl.
This man makes me so stupid, I feel like I need to be tied to a tree like a goddamn werewolf.
I’ve had countless dreams where he whispers those words in my ear, voice hoarse and strained as he fingerfucks me mercilessly. It’s my most vivid, recurring dream that pains me toleave. I always wake up aching and sore, as if it happened. The high of it only lasts a handful of minutes before reality sets in that it’s all in my head.
He’s been upping his flirting game recently, and I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind because of it. To make matters worse, I told him about the new song I’ve been playing on repeat, and he added it to his most recent post. My ego shot through the roof, and I still haven’t recovered.
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I lie on the floor and type a response that doesn’t make me sound so desperate.
Mina: Sure thing, Mr. Duval. Just some unsolicited advice: no woman likes a man who’s all talk. Truthfully, I think you lack the creativity.
Leo: Last chance.
Mina: Go Phoenixes!
I check the time, then clamor to my room to get ready. I’m going to be late.
Earlier this week, I woke up and decided that two and a bit months is enough time for his team to forget about my existence—other than Jack. That fucker probably has a weekly reminder on his phone to be a piece of shit toward me.
By the time I’m in my car and finding a parking spot, I have the blood pressure of someone getting hunted for sport. I’m a giant ball of nerves and growing more gray hairs by the second.
It feels like everything is looking at me. Watching me. Knowing my every move before I can make it.
