The way she said the last part is laced with distaste.
“You don’t want me to get patched-in as a brother?”
She pauses momentarily, then admits, “No.”
“Why?”
“Because…” She glances away. “Because there are better things you could do with your life, Hayes.”
“Really? Like what? Be an accountant like your dad?”
“Don’t be obtuse.”
I chuckle. “Don't you mean ‘don’t be an ass’? You can swear around me, Leeva. I promise not to tell your grandpa.”
She snorts.
“So, I shouldn’t be patched-in as a brother, but you’re okay with Guerilla now that he’s a brother?”
She sees the contradiction and scowls. “You’re…”
“I’m what?”
She looks away, then goes to stand up, but I stop her. “Oh no, we’re having this conversation, Leeva Catherine Malone.”
Fire leaps into her eyes, and her mouth thins. “Brothers fuck the Club Pussy.”
That’s the last thing I thought she’d say.
“So…you don’t want me to become a full-fledged member of the Havoc Guardians because then I can sleep with the Club Pussy?”
A thrill jolts through me.Does the thought of that make her jealous?
She sputters trying to answer, then slams her mouth shut.
“You realize what you just said, right?” Satisfaction ripples through me at the opportunity to point out a flaw of Guerilla’s without me looking like a complete dick. “Guerilla is a brother.”
He’s been ‘courting’ Leeva since she isn’t eighteen yet, keeping things platonic, and even though he isn’t publicly with any women, I have my suspicions.
My observation doesn’t land the way I’m hoping it would with Leeva.
“You’re an asshole.”
“So, you think I’d sink my dick into the Club Pussy the second I could, but Guerilla wouldn’t?”
Or isn’t.
“Fuck you.” Her voice shakes.
“Why the contradiction and double-standard?” I press like an idiot, not knowing when to back off. “Why would you think I’d take advantage of the pussy-on-tap”—she winces at my calling it that—“but Guerilla wouldn’t?”
In truth, my only interest in the opposite sex since I was twelve has been her. I’m seventeen and still a virgin.
“Guerilla said you’d try to come between us.”
Thatmotherfucker.
“Oh really?” I keep a lid on my rage. “He said that, did he? And since when is there an ‘us’ with you and Guerilla? You’re not dating; you’re underage.”
