In California, the legal age of consent is eighteen. So maybe if they were dating, I could get Guerilla tossed in jail for statutory rape. I’ll be honest, the idea has appeal.
She sniffs. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Neither do I.” I sigh heavily, hating that we are, and the only reason is my asshole brother. “Why did Guerilla tell you I’d try to come between you?”
“Because of your rivalry.”
“There is no rivalry—only the one in his head.”
I see her denial, the delusion of the man Guerilla really is. She doesn’t see him as the manipulative, vindictive, unworthy fucker he is. For some reason, she has blinders on when it comes to him. And with her denial, I see the hint of distance. Like she’s pulling away from me.
If I can’t accept she has feelings for my piece of shit brother, I’ll lose her.
“I’m sorry, little dove. I really don’t want to fight.”
She settles back beside me, turning slightly so she fits into my side. I love that she seeks comfort from me when she’s upset.
“Promise me you’ll tell Pierre to get fucked if he says anything else about your body,” I urge.
I’ll be giving him an impromptu midnight visit to drive the point home that he isn’t to say shit to her, but I keep that to myself.
She sighs.
“Promise me, Leeva.” My tone is all dominance, and I clear my throat as she shivers. “Promise me,” I repeat, softer.
“I promise.” Her voice sounds squeaky, and she shivers again.
I quickly shrug out of my cut and wrap it around her. Her arms aren’t covered, but at least the thick leather gives her some warmth.
Settling into me again, she asks, “Why did you do that?”
“Because you’re cold. You shivered twice.”
“Thanks. Your cut is really warm from your body heat.”
“That’s what happens when a person isn’t skin and bones.”
“I’m not skin and bones,” she gripes.
I squeeze my arm around her, digging my fingers into her ribs that feel too protruding. “Could’ve fooled me. All I feel is a bag o’ bones.”
She squirms under my fingers and snorts. “Like the Halloween decoration? A skeleton in a burlap bag?”
“Yeah, except this skeleton has a mop of hair she always keeps tied back and a snappy mouth.”
She gnashes her teeth, making me laugh. Then she settles in against me as we stare at the stars. We talk about shit from school, gossiping about people we don’t care about.
It’s just her and me, and I don’t care about the topic. As long as I have her, I’ll be happy to talk about the color pink for hours if that’s what she wants.
Whipped doesn’t come close to describing what I am when it comes to her. But I don’t give one fuck.
I’m having supper while I wait for Leeva to come to the clubhouse for us to hang out. Ever since she turned eighteen a few months ago, I’ve hardly seen my best friend because Guerilla moved in on her. They’re ‘dating’ now, and everything I’ve done to subtly try to break them up has backfired and blown up in my face.
“Hayes!”
I turn at the excitement in Leeva’s voice, a thrill ripping through me. Not only because she’s here, but because she sounds so happy. I rise from the table, a smile cracking my face, wishing I could grab her and kiss her senseless and claim her in front of everyone here.
She’d be my first kiss. I’ve been saving all my firsts for her, still holding onto my V-card, even though I’m halfway to nineteen now.
