Chapter 14
Layla
I’m steaming by the time I get outside and am hit in the face by the summer heat. I see an expensive car parked in front and go stand by the passenger door. The idiot parked in a no-parking zone and has a ticket on his windshield. He swipes it, and I wait for him to unlock the door. He comes to my side, unlocking and opening the door for me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Not from his ass anyway.
I get in and angrily put on my seatbelt while he starts the car and pulls away from the curb. He puts on talk radio, and it’s a stupid show about baseball. I cross my arms and look out the window without speaking.
It takes us thirty minutes until he parks his car in his building’s garage. He gestures for me to go in the elevator, and the smell of his cologne reaches my nose. It’s not overpowering. It smells good, and I almost wish I wasn’t here with him but with my boyfriend and that I could put my face in his chest and inhale. That thought angers me because that’s what I should be doing, not wasting my time with him. Except I don’t have a boyfriend.
If he hadn’t let me inside his apartment ahead of him, I would have slammed the door behind me.
“Let me go find those jerseys,” he says. “Feel free to look in the fridge and freezer and get whatever you want.” He walks away before I can tell him off. I yank his fridge open, and there’s nothing in there that I want. It’s all healthy stuff. The freezer is not much better. There’s not even so much as an ice cream sandwich.
Annoyed, I wash red grapes and walk through the house to find him. He’s in a room he has set up as an office and looking through a box.
“What the hell are you up to?” I ask, getting straight to the point.
“I’m looking for jerseys for your family,” he says as if that’s the most normal thing in the world. “What kind of stupid question is that?”
“Don’t play dumb, Whorekowski. Why are you showing up at my house, bringing me food, and pretending to be nice to me?”
“I’m not pretending. I’ve never had a problem with you. You’re the one who’s always judged me,” he says. He’s not wrong. I do judge him. He’s a man whore who can’t keep it in his pants, but he’s never been nice to me either. I judge all men like him.
“I’m never going to sleep with you,” I tell him again. “If you’ve already been through all the women in New York, you better look elsewhere. Go to Connecticut or New Jersey.”
“Jesus, all you think about is sex. Go take a cold shower or something.” I throw a grape at him. He opens his mouth and catches it without missing a beat. “Why do we have to be enemies? We have friends in common and Jazzy likes you,” he throws in. “We’re in the same social circle, so can we be civil?”
“I like Jasmine too. It’s her father I have a problem with. Why don’t you correct my family for assuming you’re my—” I gesture at him before croaking out, “boyfriend. God, that makes me want to puke.”
He cackles and shakes his head as if I didn’t just insult him. “What good would that have done? They don’t listen when you say it.”
“You’re impossible,” I tell him. “You tell them the truth when we get back. I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t see me that way. Got it?”
“Um, you can’t dictate to me how I see you,” is all he says. “Okay, I found some jerseys. I’ll just bring a bunch back.” He puts them on the desk and walks out of the room. When he doesn’t come back, I follow after him.
He’s on his phone, scrolling. Once he’s done, he hands me the phone and says, “Pick what you want, unless you want to go out.” It’s from a local restaurant that’s known for its decadent desserts. I’d be a fool to say no and an even bigger fool to go out in public with him. The guy can’t take two steps without getting his picture taken.
To piss him off, I pick one of each dessert and hand him back the phone. He completes the order without saying a word and puts the phone down.
“Make yourself at home. I’m gonna go take a shower,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing for me to be in his apartment while he showers. A vision of him naked flashes through my mind, and I wonder what he looks like underneath his clothes, but I quickly chase the thought away.
“Um, excuse me, but I’m not done talking. What are you up to? I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” I narrow my eyes at him.
“I’m really sweaty. Come into the bathroom with me and we can continue to talk.” The words come out matter-of-fact and not flirtatious. I widen my eyes in shock at him.
“It will be a cold day in hell before I go into the bathroom with you,” I warn.
“You have a real attitude problem. Has anyone ever told you that? Maybe that dessert will put you in a better mood. Obviously, you’re one of those people who gets hangry.” He walks away without another word.
Insufferable idiot. Since he’s brought me here and has refused to hear anything I’m saying, I decide I’m going to be nosey and look around the apartment.
There’s a big picture of when he was MVP during their last finals win. He’s holding the trophy and has a happy look on his face. For once, he doesn’t look like a jerk. He looks kind of handsome with his short blond hair and green eyes. He even has a nice chin.
After looking around the living room, I tiptoe down the hall. There are pictures of Jasmine all over the wall. Most of them are candid shots, but there’s one that’s clearly a photoshoot of her first birthday. She’s in all pink and a white tutu. She’s holding a big number one and grinning sweetly for the camera.
The door to his bedroom is open, so I go inside. I can hear the water running in the bathroom while I look around. He has a big, four-poster bed. There’s a small pink pillow and matching blanket on his bed, and I wonder if Jasmine ends up sleeping in here most nights. I know she has a room that any little girl would love, but I have also noticed that Wakowski doesn’t like to be away from his daughter.
When I found out he had fathered a child with some random fangirl, it proved everything I had thought of him. He was a whore who slept with any and everybody and fathered a child in the process. I remember my jaw dropping when he showed up at Jeannie and Aiden’s townhouse one Sunday for brunch with her strapped to his chest. He had a big pink diaper bag slung across his shoulder and a pink stuffed pig under his arm. He was attentive throughout brunch. He fed her, excused himself to change her diaper, and only let Coach and Jeannie hold her. I remember dying to hold the baby, and I got my chance when he went outside to talk on the phone. As soon as he was out of sight, I snatched Jasmine from Jeannie and cradled her. He was only gone a few minutes, and when he came back in, he found me rocking her in my arms while she looked at me in awe. She was one of the most beautiful babies I’d ever seen, despite looking so much like Seth. I expected him to take her from me and to tell me not to touch her again, but he didn’t. He walked away and came back with a bottle. He handed it to me, put a bib on her, and let me feed her.
Once I’m certain he won’t catch me in his room, I open the top drawer of his dresser. It’s a mess of underwear and socks. Nothing is folded. The socks are all randomly thrown in. The rest of the drawers are all disorganized. Bothered by the mess, I slam the drawer shut.
There’s another dresser, and on top of it is a jewelry box. I open it up and find two championship rings inside. I would think he would have those in a safe or somewhere more secure. With as many women as I’m sure come through here, he’s lucky they haven’t gotten stolen.
I look around, pull one out, and slide it on my middle finger. It’s so big that I’m able to spin it around. I put it on my thumb and I get the same result.
Before I can put it back, I hear a door open. I gasp and look around and my eyes lock with his. I make the mistake of looking down. He’s not only bare-chested, he’s naked. Not only that, but he has water glistening all over his body. His tanned and well-defined body.
I stand rooted where I stand, unable to speak, breathe, or move like I should. I can’t even find it in me to have my eyes travel up his body. I can’t seem to stop looking at one particular part of him. It’s not even aroused and it looks big. Much bigger than the only dick I’ve ever been around. My brain is telling me that I need to put the ring down and leave this room, but my body can’t seem to act on my brain’s commands.
So, I wait for him to ask me what the hell I’m doing and to order me to go, only he doesn’t. He steps away from the bathroom door and into the bedroom. It bounces with each step he takes. Water droplets fall everywhere, and I still can’t move. He shakes his head and water from his hair hits me in the face, and even if this apartment was on fire, I would not be able to move.
“That ring won’t fit you at all,” he says as if it’s perfectly normal for him to find me in his bedroom. He takes the ring from my hand, and I assume he’s going to put it back in the jewelry box, but he doesn’t. He looks around and finds a gold chain. He puts the ring on it, and I think there’s no way he’s about to do what I think he’s going to do.
He stands behind me, and despite the cool air blowing around, the room feels like it’s one thousand degrees. My hand flies to my neck, and I have it on my tongue to tell him no, but he puts the chain on and clasps it. Then he puts both of his giant hands on my shoulders.
“Looks good,” is all he says. Then he bends down and opens the bottom drawer. I can’t help but look at his ass while he rummages through the drawer and pulls out a pair of underwear. He puts them on, and I’ll never admit this to anyone, but I miss the view.
My brain starts functioning again, and I clear my throat. “Do you have to walk around me naked, Whorekowski? What the hell?”
“I left you in the kitchen. Why are you in here snooping through my jewelry box, hmm? And I was in the shower. I don’t know about you, but I do that naked.” He dares to roll his eyes at me before he strides to his walk-in closet. Instead of leaving, I follow him to the closet door so I can snoop in there. Everything on the built-in shelves is neatly folded. There are a few shelves with baby clothes and shoes. He pulls out a pair of cargo shorts and a black tee and puts them on.
He then bends down again, and my eyes go right for his ass. God, it’s perfect. I remember the first time I noticed how nice it is. While he’s looking down, I fan my face and remind myself I need to find a man. If I’m getting hot over Seth Wakowski, I need to get laid and get laid quickly. Just not by him.
He stands up holding a brand-new pair of high-top sneakers.
“I have a bunch of these since I’m one of their spokespeople. You want to look through and see if any will fit anyone you know?” He points to a box in the corner. I move closer and look through it. There are about twenty pairs, and they’re all new. I pick one up and look at the size.
“I don’t know anyone who wears a size sixteen shoe.” I put it back.
“Well, I have some other stuff in the guest bedroom. You can look through those and take whatever you want.” He walks past me out of the closet and back to the bathroom. I follow, and the room is still steamy from the shower. He runs a comb through his hair and tosses it down.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask, following him out of his bedroom and back to the kitchen. He picks up his phone and looks down at it.
“I’ve never been mean to you. You’re the one who judges me.” I open my mouth to argue and realize he’s right. He’s never been nice, but I’m the one who set the tone for our relationship.
“If this is some trick because you think you have a chance of getting me into bed—”
“Have I ever tried? Besides, I do fine in that department.”
“Whatever,” is all I say. “I don’t trust you.”
“Yeah. I can see how you wouldn’t since you just found me looking through your jewelry.” He smirks when our eyes catch. “Oh, right. That was you.” He points at me.
I finger the chain he put around my neck when I hear a loud knock on the door. He jogs to it and returns moments later with three big brown paper bags. He pulls the different containers out and puts them on the kitchen island. He gestures for me to sit, and I do. After grabbing a container with a piece of chocolate cake, he brings me a bottle of water and takes the seat next to me.
I pick up the cake and take a huge bite. He slides another dessert in front of me. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s delicious with caramel and walnuts. He looks at me and grins, and something in the room changes. He looks boyish and handsome. He leans over and wipes the tip of my nose with his bare hand.
“Napkins are over there.” He points and I reach for a paper towel.
“Can you call your mom so I can check on Jasmine?” he asks. I want to tell him that Jasmine is fine, and if she wasn’t my mother would have called, but I don’t say that. He’s reasonably worried, so I call my mom and put her on speaker.
“Oh, the baby is fine. You should see her eat some of this chicken and white rice. You two have fun and don’t worry about her.” Mom hangs up before we can ask any questions, but I did hear Jasmine laughing in the background.
Seemingly satisfied, he grabs a big cookie. To my shock, he breaks it in two and gives me half.
“Thank you,” I say with my mouth full.
“You want to go for a walk after we eat? I don’t usually eat so much sugar,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing to hang out together.
“Walk where?” I ask as I finish the cookie.
“Hunts Point.” When I gasp at his response he says, “Where do you think? Central Park.”
My eyes narrow as I look at his profile while I drink from the bottled water. I drain half of it in a few huge gulps. He’s not looking at me. He looks straight ahead while he wipes his mouth.
I’ve only recently started to appreciate how full his lips are. They’re a nice shade of pink too. I clear my throat and wonder why the hell this apartment is so hot. “How do you know about Hunts Point?” I cross my arms and look at him up and down in disgust.
“It was a joke. You need to get a personality, not to mention a sense of humor.” He stands and stretches, raising both hands above his head. His shirt rides up and I see a happy trail of soft blonde hair on his defined stomach. I look away. “Come on.” He offers me his hand.
“But people might see us in public together.”
“I know. Lucky for you, ain’t it?” He wraps his hand around my wrist and gently pulls me from the chair. “You might want to stop scowling.”
I pull my wrist and go into the half bathroom that’s down the hall. He’s putting the leftover dessert in the fridge when I return. I walk to him and hold out my hand.
He looks surprised, but he extends his hand as if to hold mine.
“No,” I tell him. “Here.” I open my hand to give him the gold chain and his championship ring. “I don’t want to lose it.”
“You can wear it,” he says. “I don’t wear them. They’re too bulky.”
I shake my head and put the jewelry on the counter. “Let’s go,” I tell him. He shrugs and opens the front door for me. We don’t speak while in the elevator or while we walk through the lobby to go outside. We walk out the front door and into the stifling summer evening. His building overlooks Central Park, and tonight it’s filled with people, music, and vendors.
“You want something?” he asks while pointing at an ice cream truck.
“Um, no thank you. I’m full.”
He shrugs and we continue to walk. After a while, he’s spotted, and a bunch of kids crowd around him. He stops, shakes hands, and takes selfies. I sit on a bench and watch him. Someone hands him a sharpie, and he signs their shirt. For the next fifteen minutes, he talks to everyone who approaches him. After a while, I buy two bottled waters and wait. Eventually, he manages to move away and joins me on the bench. A few seconds later, a boy who appears to be about eleven approaches us.
“Is that your girlfriend?” he asks, pointing at me.
I open my mouth to say fuck no, but Seth talks first.
“Sure is,” he says while putting one of his long arms across my shoulders. Then he shocks me by kissing my cheek. If the kid wasn’t standing there watching, I’d punch him. Instead, I try to pull away, but he slides closer. The kid giggles before he runs off.
“Sorry about that,” he says.
“If you don’t get the hell away from me, I’m going to punch you in the teeth, Whorekowski,” I hiss.