15. Fifteen
FIFTEEN
H arley
“I am going to murder him,” I growl through my phone.
Alicia laughs softly. “Hold on, babe. I’m heading up the stairs now. I’ll help you out.”
“Cia, everything is wrapped in wrapping paper! Bright red wrapping paper with stupid radish Santa’s on them!”
More laughter comes from her end of the phone. “Hey, at least he’s no longer publicly humiliating you. Right?”
I grit my teeth. “Don’t be logical right now. It isn’t cute. In fact, it makes me want to potato your face up.”
There’s a brief pause, and then she asks, “Potato was fuck in that sentence, right?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mutter, “Yeah. Potato was the f-bomb.”
“Okay, so you’re ready to fuck my face up. What about Jax’s face?”
“I want to smother his face between my thighs. And I don’t even know what that entails!” I screech at her while pacing my perfectly wrapped room. “Cia, I thought men were terrible at gift wrapping. My room looks like Santa’s workshop threw up in here.”
“Firstly,” she says from behind me, hanging up the phone. “If you are going to sit on his face, he is most definitely going to enjoy that. Secondly,” Alicia finishes off whatever she was going to say with a drawn out whistle.
I throw my hand out, gesturing to my room. “I’m going to kill him!”
She holds up a finger and proceeds to scroll through her phone until she finds whatever she is looking for before holding it back up to her ear. Her foot taps while she patiently, or rather impatiently, waits for whoever she is calling to answer the phone.
“Hey, listen. I’m going to need your help with an epic glitter bomb for the beloved captain.” There’s a pause and then she says, “Hot pink glitter, of course. It has to match his beautiful practice jerseys. And while we are at it, put pink hair dye in his shampoo, too. I have some that will color his hair even with it not being bleached.”
My mouth drops open. “Cia!”
She waves me off. Her brows pull together, and she throws her head back on a groan. “Fine. I’ll make the baked ziti, but Justin isn’t allowed to have any of it.” A slow smile spreads across her face. “So, we have a deal then? Perfect.”
Alicia hangs up the phone and deposits it into her pocket. Without a word, she starts to unwrap my room, starting with the trunk at the foot of my bed.
“Did you just make a deal with the devil?” I squeak out.
“Not the devil, Har. Just Quinton.” A wicked smirk takes over his face. “We are about to explode pink all over the dark and dangerous.”
Alicia and I stare down at the two outfits laid out on my bed. I tap my chin with my finger, examining the clothes. It’s down to dark blue skinny jeans with a black, silk tank top and leggings with an off the shoulder sweater.
I look at Alicia, and at the same time we both say, “Skinny jeans.”
Stripping down, I pull the skinny jeans over my hips and then remove my bra just before pulling the silk tank over my head. When I turn around, Alicia has her arms crossed and eyebrows raised at me.
“What?” I ask, glancing down at my body.
“No bra?”
“Alicia, I barely have tits. They are a solid B cup on a good day. Meaning, with a nice loose tank top like this one,” I run my hand, palm up, down the length of my torso. “I can get away with freeing the girls.”
“Yeah, unfortunately I don’t have that luxury. If I dare to do that, it’s like my nipples are magnets for the penis eye.”
I snort a laugh. “Lemon wedges. Penis eye?”
Alicia’s eyes study me. “This fruit and vegetable as curse words thing. Why?”
Rolling my lips, I lift a shoulder and drop it back down. “My parents have this driver, and his name is Arthur. Ever since I was a little girl, we would use code words for certain things. When he’d pick me up from school and ask me how my day was, if it was really bad, I would tell him strawberries. I don’t know why fruit or vegetables, I honestly can’t remember, but it stuck. Even now, we use the word mangos for if my parents are in their usual particularly controlling mood. If it’s bad, he says spicy mangos. If it’s excruciating, extra spicy mangos.”
Her brows furrow. “Your parents are really that bad all the time?”
I nod, settling myself on the floor next to the bed so that Alicia can start braiding my hair. “Yeah, but it’s normal. Parents are supposed to be hard on their kids. That’s what my dad always says.”
Her long legs land on either side of my shoulders. She takes the comb that I have on the nightstand and parts my hair down the middle. The feel of the comb grazing my scalp gently makes goosebumps erupt on my arms.
“Honey,” she says soothingly. “Parents are not supposed to be like that.”
My brows bunch together. “What do you mean?
Her fingers start to work through my hair on the right side of my head. With a heavy sigh, she says, “Parents are supposed to be nurturing. Supportive. Loving. They aren’t supposed to judge you so harshly that you have to have a code word with their personal driver to get an idea of what you’re walking into. That’s”—she expels a long breath—“Harley, that’s mental and emotional abuse.”
We both go silent after that. I get lost in my head, rethinking my entire childhood. I thought that my life was perfectly normal. An average life as an only child. Maybe Alicia is wrong, and her family is just completely utopic compared to the real normal.
“I had a younger brother. We were Irish twins.” Her voice is soft and sad.
I remain quiet, letting her decide if she wants to tell me more. She ties off the first braid with a rubber band and moves onto the opposite side of my head.
“His name was Sean. I was older by ten months.”
Had and was echoing in my brain, making my heart squeeze in pain for my only friend.
“His sophomore year of high school, he was in a bad car accident. They life-flighted him to a level one trauma hospital and he was taken into surgery. The truck that hit him had smashed Sean into the car so badly that it ruptured his spleen, broke all his ribs, made one puncture his lung, and cracked his sternum. He died on the operating table.”
“Alicia, I am so sorry,” I whisper softly, wiping a tear that has fallen down my cheek.
“Even before, my parents were always very supportive and encouraging. But after that, it was like their broken hearts needed a way to heal from his death. I just want you to know that I support you, Har. If your parents don’t want to see how amazing you are and let you live the life you deserve to live, then they don’t deserve you, or the excuses that you’re making for them in your head.”
She ties off the second braid and pushes both ends over my shoulders. Her hands fall on the bare skin, squeezing gently before she slides off my bed to stand. Alicia holds her hand out for me to take. I place my palm in hers and she gives me the biggest smile, despite the unshed tears in her eyes.
“I am going to give you the sexiest smokey eye and pair it with a nude lipstick. It’ll look great with this black tank,” she says delightfully.
The entire time she does my makeup, I let all the things she said really sink in. She has supporting and loving parents. And I’m starting to wonder if mine have ever really loved me at all. The thought makes my stomach turn.
When Alicia is all finished, I slip my boots on and grab my brown leather jacket that matches them. My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I pull it out and swipe across the screen.
“Hello?” I say into the phone.
“Hey, it’s Leroy, I’m outside if you’re ready,” his silky voice tells me.
“Alright, I’ll be right down.”
I hang up and turn to Alicia who is looking me up and down. “Damn girl, you are fucking hot.”
“Thanks,” I breathe out with a nervous laugh.
“You ready?” she asks knowingly.
“No. I wish I was going out with Jax instead. I’d probably be more nervous, but at least I know the guy.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants.
“You’ll be fine. You’ll go to dinner and he will bring you back here before you know it. Try and have fun. Who knows, maybe you’ll even like Leroy,” she encourages.
I groan. “Please don’t. Leroy probably won’t even like me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Go. Have fun.”
I let her push me out the door and make my way down to the parking lot. As soon as I step through the doors, I find Leroy standing next to a black Tesla. My heart kicks up the pace more with each step I take to close the distance between us.
“Harley Thomas,” he greets with a small smile.
“Leroy Sanchez,” I murmur back.
He holds his hand out for a handshake and as soon as I slide my palm into his, he turns our hands and brings mine up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. His mossy green eyes lock on mine, grinning back at me and oozing all his confidence.
“Let’s go,” he says, turning to open the door for me.
I’m actually surprised that he’s driving us himself considering I know how much money his family has. I slide into the seat, thanking him before he closes the door. Leroy pulls out of the parking lot and wastes no time on getting into the small talk.
“My mother says you’re a statistics major?” he asks.
“Uh, yes. I am.”
“That’s really cool. I’m majoring in sports medicine, that way I have a backup plan if I don’t get drafted by the end of next year,” Leroy explains.
I laugh softly. “I’m sure if you’re pursuing the NHL then you’ll likely get drafted.”
“You watch hockey?” he asks, eyeing me from the driver seat.
I decide to tell him the truth. “I actually love hockey. I pretend to not care for it, because I’d much rather stay home. But yeah, I watch. I actually watched you play last weekend,” I admit.
“Our rival games are always brutal,” he says with a large grin. “I swear I spend more time in the penalty box than on the ice when it comes to going up against Jax Stone.”
“He’s a tough player to go up against,” I agree.
Leroy pulls us up to a restaurant and parks the car. “I hope you like pub food. This place has some amazing burgers.”
“I love burgers,” I tell him with a smile.
“Then I brought you to the right place.” His smile is warm, but there’s something about the look in his eyes that unsettles me, despite his kind disposition.
We head inside, Leroy putting a hand on the small of my back. Awareness prickles at my spine, but I try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling settling in my stomach. He pulls out my chair for me, and instead of taking the seat across from me, he sits next to me.
The waitress comes over, greeting us with a warm smile. “What can I get the two of you to drink?”
“I’ll have a coke and my girl here will have a water,” Leroy says.
Her eyebrows pull together, likely mirroring my exact expression. There are two things that are wrong with his sentence, but instead of saying anything, I give the waitress a tight lipped smile and a nod.
“So, Harley. I heard you used to attend BCU. What made you transfer schools? Does KRU have a better statistics program or something like that?” His face says the question is supposed to be teasing, but the judgment in his tone makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“I needed a new form of scenery I guess you could say,” I murmur, placing my napkin in my lap.
The waitress comes back with our drinks. I thank her and Leroy jumps into demanding our orders. I haven’t even looked at the menu yet. Which doesn’t matter anyways because the prick orders for me again.
“We’ll have two BBQ pub burgers. With the ciabatta bun and sweet potato fries.”
I hate sweet potato fries. The waitress’s eyes shift to me. “Actually,” I flip the menu over and find the first thing that looks appetizing. “I’d like the grilled buffalo wrap. With waffle fries and a big side of ranch, please.”
I can feel the tension radiating from Leroy. But the smile that takes over the waitress’s face is so worth my defiance at this moment. I collect the menus before handing them to her with my own smug smirk.
“Anyways,” I say, turning toward Leroy. “What made you choose BCU over any other college.”
He straightens, as if my question is a personal attack at his choice of school. “Every man in my family has attended BCU since the campus was founded.”
“Ah, so family tradition then. I’m actually kind of surprised your father is allowing you to study sports medicine instead of following in his footsteps to one day work your way up the corporate ladder at my father’s company.”
If he could straighten his spine more, he would have at that moment. I see the muscle in his jaw flex while he grinds his teeth together. Which confirms that this is most definitely a touchy subject for the perfect Sanchez family. Something I already knew because I used to listen to his father and mine talk about how he was wasting his potential on the ice.
“Let’s be really honest with each other Leroy. I am only here because I was required to attend by the orders of my mother. Why are you here? It seems that you get away with defying your parents wishes whenever you please,” I clip, packing a punch with every word.
He chuckles darkly. “Well, if Maria wasn’t right.”
It’s my turn for my spine to stiffen. My blood runs cold, and my lungs seize in my chest. “What?” I whisper.
Leroy reaches out, running his fingers down my cheek, my jaw, my neck, and the low cut V in my tank top. I can’t make myself move as my brain short circuits at the mention of Maria.
“She said that you probably wouldn’t show up unless your parents forced you to be here.”
“W-what does Maria have to do with this?” I stutter.
His eyes watch his fingers that are now caressing the swell of my breast. “She also said that you had a perfect little virgin cunt. Which made me want a taste. What do you say, Thomas? Shall we go into the bathroom and I can show you what you’ve been missing out on all these years?”
I gasp, swatting his hand away. “You came here because you heard I was a virgin and thought you could take me into the bathroom and what? I’d just let you put your dick in me?” The sound of my voice is shrill with each hissed word.
Leroy lifts his drink to his mouth, taking a sip and giving me a wink. This isn’t happening right now. Standing up from the table, I grab my coat and my purse.
I lean down close to his face and say through gritted teeth, “Tell Maria I said I’ll see her at the BCU hockey game. Tell her to bring an ice pack for her cunt. She’s going to need it after I shove my boot up the black hole.”
I storm out of the restaurant without a second thought. My body is shaking with the rage that is coursing through my body. I walk away from the pub, from Leroy, from my only way back to the dorms and pull my phone out to call Alicia.
It immediately goes to voicemail after ringing once.
“Hey, you’ve got my voicemail. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Or I won’t, don’t hold your breath!”
I sink to the curb and drop my head into my hands. I don’t dare call Arthur to come pick me up. He’d have to tell my parents. And I’d likely get in trouble for how I just embarrassed them.
I bring up a contact and press call, hoping to whatever god there is that he answers.