Chapter 25 #2
My cheeks burn under his attention, and I lose what little appetite I have, but I force myself to eat because my brain is convinced that it’ll somehow impress him since I feel all gooey inside whenever people polish off what I’ve cooked.
Neither of us speaks, and the quiet stretches long after the door closes behind Joyce.
I swallow the last bite, finish off my tea and medication, and still I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye until he mutters, “Good,” as he takes my empty plate.
Four letters. One syllable. That’s all it takes for me to shrug off my hoodie because my internal temperature has turned molten.
It heats and heats the longer I stare at his back muscles rippling beneath his shirt while he washes and dries the dishes.
In the silence, the doubt ebbs away. He wouldn’t be here knowing everything he knows about me if he planned on throwing it in my face—if it turns out he does have a girlfriend. He wouldn’t have made breakfast for me and Joyce, or told me to stay at his house, or kept messaging me.
The worry hits me tenfold when he turns around and levels me with a weighted look I can’t decipher. He’s . . . expectant. Of what? I’m not sure. Something tells me he’s not waiting for my barrage of questions.
Surely any second now he’s going to tell me I’m a despicable human for what I’ve done to him and his sister. He’s going to tell me that he never wants to see me again, and to stay away or he’ll call the cops. It’d be the logical thing for him to do.
It’s what a normal person would do.
I try to think of responses to convince him not to—that we’d be perfect for each other, and that I’m still the same girl he’s been texting, and none of this needs to change anything. But all I can come up with is that it’d be a losing game.
At the end of the day, people like him never end up with people like me.
“I have another game out of state tonight. We’ll go out for dinner tomorrow. I’ll have a dress sent over.”
Hold on. “What?” That’s the last thing I was expecting him to say.
“That’s what boyfriends do.” Leo arches a brow like it’s obvious. “They shower their girlfriend with gifts and take them out to nice restaurants.”
My mouth opens and shuts like a fish. “We aren’t . . .” I wish we were. “That girl in the photo . . .”
His eyes darken. “I’d rather cut my dick off than be with her. One of the guys took that picture without my knowledge.”
Huh? “Who?” My mind flashes to the suggestive image of Leo and the woman that was sent in the group chat his friends made. Right. He’s talking about that. I shake my head. “You posted about her a few days ago.”
My girl.
I feel sick just thinking about it.
A slow smile splits his face. The type a wolf would give as it corners a sheep. My hackles rise, and I lean back on the stool like it might save me from whatever is coming out of his mouth next.
Leo’s voice is low, as if he’s sharing a secret. “It costs a couple of dollars to get a key cut.”
“What?”
He unlocks his phone, does something on it, then hands it to me. The pinch between my brows deepens as I stare at the image he posted.
Try as I might, no amount of berating myself stops my eyes from watering. This is when the hurt starts. He’s about to shove it in my face and tell me how someone like him could never be with someone like me.
I swallow, and my words come out broken. “What am I looking at?”
He chuckles darkly. “For someone who’s been watching me this closely, I’m surprised you don’t recognize your own skin.”
I blink up at him. No . . . He can’t . . . I look at the photo, and for the first time, I finally see it. My sheets in the background. The same skin tone. The unmanicured nails with ripped skin around their beds.
Every breath becomes a challenge, and the phone starts to tremble in my hands. How . . . No, no. That can’t be right. He’s lying to me. I’m telling myself what I want to hear.
My attention snaps up to him when he continues.
“You’re jealous of yourself, and you don’t even know it.
You think I’d touch someone else like that?
Please, I don’t waste that kind of tenderness.
” He steps forward and leans both hands on the counter in front of me.
“If you think I have an interest in any other woman but you, then you haven’t been paying attention. ”
He studies me, and I . . . I don’t know how to respond. He’s telling me what I’ve always wanted to hear—he’s making himself out to be mine.
It’s too good to be true.
Leo lifts a shoulder. “You were sleeping so peacefully, I couldn’t help myself.”
That wakes me up.
“You broke into my home while I was asleep,” I gasp out. Never in a million years did I think I’d utter those words.
Again, I must have heard wrong. Because there’s absolutely no fucking way. None.
“As opposed to doing it once you’ve stepped out. Yes. I’m not a coward,” he says completely straight-faced.
My jaw drops. My head is spinning, and it takes so much effort to string words together. “Why— You didn’t wake me up!”
That’s the part I’m focusing on? Jesus Christ.
A knowing smile spreads across his face. “Trust me, you’re as shocked as I was that you didn’t.”
What is that supposed to mean? The ominous way he said it makes me want to crawl out of my goddamn skin. “How many times have you been here?” I demand.
“How long have we been talking for? Add a couple weeks to that.”
Excuse me? “You’ve been coming here for months?”
“I’ve been noticing you longer than you’ve been watching me. You’re late to your own obsession.”
“N-no, I messaged you first, and only because you randomly showed up on my page.” What he’s saying can’t be right.
“Your first message, sure. That was our introduction. Your second?” He tips his head to the side, almost tauntingly. “I already knew everything about you by then.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
I always thought I’d feel nothing but happiness when all my cards were finally on the table, and there would be nothing keeping us apart anymore. And now . . . now I don’t know what to think.
There’s a misplaced sense of betrayal, and I can’t quite pinpoint its origin. I’m a goddamn fucking hypocrite for being upset about any of this. I have no right to feel betrayed or lied to because we really are one and the same.
Leo’s not fitting into the Leo-shaped box I put him in, and I don’t know how to process this.
I shake my head, trying to clear it and make sense of everything. “I’ve been going to your house for months, and messaging you for longer, and all this time you were stalking me too.” Saying it out loud doesn’t make it any more digestible.
“You call it stalking. I call it taking an interest. And don’t pretend yours wasn’t deeper than mine.
” Leo edges around the island to stand in front of me.
I hold my breath when he reaches out to curl my hair around his finger before tucking it behind my ear.
“You were begging for attention long before I gave it to you.”
It feels like I’m burning alive from his proximity. Every cell is vibrating and coming to life from the warmth of his skin near mine. I want to close the distance, urge him to touch me again, but I stop myself before I completely fall.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Why didn’t you, Mina?
He couldn’t have been worried I’d reject him if he knew the lengths I was going to because of my obsession with him.
I spent however many freaking days thinking he had a girlfriend, and he let me spiral about it.
“You watched me because you wanted something. I watched you because I already knew what it was.”
I shake my head again and lean back, needing the space to think. “Nothing you’re saying is making sense.” There has to be more than just that. “This must be some kind of sick game. I—I can’t do this right now.”
“You can deny me all you want, but you follow after me like you’re afraid I’ll disappear. I’m not going anywhere.” He trails a finger along my jaw, and I shudder. “Pack up your things. You’re moving in with me.”
My eyes widen. He wants us to live together? Elation and worry war within me. I’m too stunned to do more than stare at him.
I want that, and I don’t.
Leo isn’t the man I thought he was, and I still can’t reconcile the man in front of me with the one I’ve been idolizing on-screen.
What I need is time.
Time to come to terms with my new reality.
Time to figure out how to break the news to my mother.
Oh, God. The anxiety rises in my chest thinking about it. She’ll fucking blow. Telling her is a death sentence. She won’t approve of Leo. Oh, God—not to mention she’ll have to tell Tita Agnes that Thomas and I won’t be a thing.
Father wouldn’t entirely care about what Leo does, or where he’s from—although, he’d hate the tattoos—but he’s still Mom’s sidekick. As long as she’s in the room, he’s on her team, only half listening and nodding so long as she’s happy.
“It’s too soon,” I whisper, rising from my seat to put some distance between us.
I’ve never fully considered the logistics of what to do when this thing between us becomes a reality, and it’s stressing me the hell out because I have no idea how to navigate this new territory and bring Mom into the mix.
Leo frowns at the space I’ve created. Or it could be his disappointment over what I said. “Maybe I need to put this in simpler terms: Either you stay in my bed, or I’m staying in yours. One will have repercussions, the other will not. Whatever happens, you won’t be sleeping alone.”
My lips part. “I’ll change the locks.”
“You have windows,” he counters.
“I’d wake up.”
“You’re a heavy sleeper.”
“I’ll stay at my parents’ house.” I’d rather die.
“They have windows too.”
Has he always been this persistent? Just because I was stalking him doesn’t mean I’ve come to terms with the reverse.
“I just found out you’ve been stalking me for months. Give me two fucking minutes to process.”
Leo stares at me blankly for a moment, like he’s genuinely considering my request and is starting to see where I’m coming from.
That goes crashing down when he starts a two-minute timer on his phone. “Do you still keep your luggage in the laundry room? I’ll pack your things while you have your moment.”
I rub my eyes under my glasses. I’m having a hard time believing any of this is happening. “Leo, this changes everything. You can’t—”
“Whatever it is you’re about to say, yes, I can.”
My breath catches as he stalks forward until he’s grabbing me by the hips and pressing me against the counter. A strong hand travels up the curve of my waist to grip the nape of my neck, tipping my head until there’s a mere inch separating our lips, and I can’t look anywhere but up at him.
Every dirty dream I’ve ever had with him at the forefront plays out in my mind. In the same vein, I want to rest my head on his shoulder and just breathe him in, feel his arms wrapped around me, feel this connection in my soul.
“You chased me, bent over backward, and fucking begged me to see you, and now you’re denying it. Look at me and tell me you don’t want this. Say it without turning away.” His voice is a burning caress. The deep rumble curls down my spine and tightens my lower stomach.
Those words never come out because it’d be a lie. I want this fairy-tale ending for us, but I want to know what the tale is about. I thought I was the author setting the pace and laying out the plans, but I’m the unreliable narrator.
“Can’t do it?” He arches a brow mockingly.
My eyelids grow heavy as he releases my head, following the dip of my collarbone with his hand, curving around my breast and down to my hips.
A shiver runs down my spine, and a low groan threatens to spill out.
He leans down to my ear and smugly whispers, “Thought so.”
Despite the warring feelings, I have to stop myself from pouting when he pulls away, taking his warmth with him.
I must not have succeeded because the look in his eyes is downright devilish as he towers over me.
There’s no mistaking the frustration and disappointment peeking through. It’s like a punch to the gut.
“Are you done with this attitude? Because I’m over pretending you’re not getting wet at the thought of me watching you.”
I frown because there’s no point denying it, but I can’t seem to string together the words to explain what I’m feeling because I’m not convinced about my own doubts.
Somehow, I manage to settle on, “So much has happened in the past few days—the break-in, having my bag snatched, thinking you had a girlfriend. It’s too much for me, and I-I’m overwhelmed.
I need time to work through it because I’m having a hard time believing any of this is actually real or happening. ”
“Let me make this clear to you: you’re mine when you’re angry, mine when you’re scared, and especially mine when you try to push me away.
” He searches my eyes without confirming if he’ll grant me what I asked for.
“You wanted dangerous, so stop acting surprised when I act like it.” Leo nods toward my bedroom.
“Pack your things. Wear the dress I send you. I’ll see you tomorrow night at six. ”