by Eden O'Neill
She as in me, the girl he just got done fucking for the better part of several hours. The girl he was now ditching because another girl was blowing up his phone and saying she needed him.
Niko frowned, gaze flicking over my way before looking at his friend. “Now, bro? I mean, we’re about to eat.”
This didn’t seem to concern LJ. Not one bit before he finally faced me. He popped a chin in my direction. “You all good? We good?”
Are we… good, and just like that, he let me know where we stood.
And how incredibly stupid I really was.
I got it wrong twice. Two different guys and two different scenarios, but wrong nonetheless.
I nearly laughed as I passed my shrug off, and without much thought, LJ escaped from the kitchen. A door slammed shut not long later, probably only the time it took him to put a shirt and shoes on. Soon after that, a car started outside somewhere, and sighing, Niko scrubbed his hand through his hair.
He platted my toast himself, and after getting the jam out, he put it all in front of me. His smile was small. “Coffee with your toast?”
Chapter Seventeen
Billie
The only difference between my relationship with LJ before we had sex versus after was he’d actually started showing up to classes again. Though, this change in effort may have had more to do with the fact that the semester was winding down and he wanted to pass than it did with seeing me. He’d said very few words to me since we hooked up and he caught me looking at his phone, and though he did participate in recitation, he did only the bare minimum. He spoke up when required, then sat back on his phone the rest of the time, like he was biding his time and really didn’t want anything to do with me. He’d literally fucked and dashed, no doubt his MO, but what frustrated me the most was that I’d fallen for it. I may have come on to him, yes, but I didn’t deserve to be treated in such a way.
Even if I had peeked at his phone.
He’d gotten so frustrated, and I thought, maybe, illogically. Of course, I didn’t know his reasons, not my business, but if he was going to another girl only moments after heating up the sheets with me, he was nothing but a goddamn player and someone, you’d think, I would have known better to stay away from. I wasn’t a college freshman anymore and long past the naïveté of an undergrad.
At least, I believed I was.
As we headed into those final weeks of classes and I started to really get focused on my own studies, I was happy to soon be rid of my TA experience with Professor Douglas. The man did nothing but load on the work and had frequent check-ins with me about his students. This started right after the incident in question with LJ, of course, but I’d been happy to assure him LJ had been honestly doing well. LJ did his due diligence in class, and as I handed out final term papers back for the students to use to prepare for their final exams, I stopped him at the back of the room. He had his earbuds in, barely paying attention as per usual, but at least his grades fared well.
Light toned eyes drifted from his paper in my hands up to mine. He’d not only passed his final essay with flying colors, but he’d aced it.
I let it fall to his desk.
“Crazy what you can do when you actually attend class,” I said, all I could really give him.
Picking up his paper, he studied it, but I didn’t stick around long enough to see his response. I continued on, passing out the rest of the term papers, and once I cleared my stack, I returned to the front and gathered my things. It took me a second to realize I was being watched, but once I had, that heat blazed.
I found those blue eyes again as I stared ahead, LJ the last person in the room besides me.
He stood at the door, hands on his shoulder bag. I thought he may come forward, but as quick as he stared, he was even quicker leaving. The door slammed shut behind him, and I passed whatever his deal was off.
I had to.
Later that night, I loaded a grocery cart for one, my mom off at another party. She was proving to have a better social life than mine these days. Always out, and she was actually consistently going to therapy now. I came over to find the house clean most weekends and hadn’t found her passed out on her couch in what seemed like months. She must have been feeling better.
I was the only fuck-up these days.
I hadn’t been drinking, but I had been completely up in my feelings lately. I could blame many things, but at the end of the day, I had to take ownership of my own mess. I chose to get involved with D-bags.
My phone buzzed in my grocery cart.
Daddy: Hey, kid. How’ve you been?
The same since the last time I hadn’t answered his texts.
Another buzz.
Daddy: I know you’re not talking to me, but I really hope you liked the gift I sent over. You can do with it what you wish, of course, but I wanted you to have it.
I cringed.
Daddy: Anyway, I love you. And I really hope I do see you at the wedding this summer. Things didn’t go the way I hoped with your mom. But I think things can be better the way they are now. I wasn’t being fair to your mom, and I’m just so sorry I hurt you. Hurt both of you.
I was sorry too, sorry that they’d both gotten involved, and he’d wrecked our family with his decisions. I just couldn’t easily forgive him. Even if my parents hadn’t ever loved each other.
My stomach sour, it took me a second to realize someone was speaking to me. I followed my phone up to blue eyes and paused at seeing them, so familiar, but not the owner.
The young girl tapped her sneaker at me, like maybe eighteen or so. Eyeing behind my cart, she studied the cookies I currently stood in front of, and stumbling, I backed up so she could get them.
“Thanks,” she said, her earbuds in and a bomber jacket on. She looked ready to dance in a music video, barely passing me another glance before leaving.
I bit my lip behind her. “Sorry about that.”
But her music must have been too loud. Cookies in hand, she walked away without another glance, and I was embarrassed having just been caught standing there in the middle of the aisle. I hated when people did that to me, and pushing on, I refused to let my dad be a hindrance in my life anymore. I continued to grocery shop, making it to the produce and getting my items there quickly. The last thing I needed was some apples, and as I reached for them, I bumped a hand.
“Sorry—” Once again, I hit those same ocean-clear eyes, the young girl. I had no idea if I just kept hitting her because I wasn’t paying attention or because she had music in her ears. Either way, she appeared annoyed at me.
She took an earbud out. “You go ahead.”
“No, you’re fine.”
She took me up on the offer, grabbing a couple that totally weren’t ripe, and since I didn’t want to overstep, I let her. I did, on the other hand, come ready with a bag to help her, though. She hadn’t grabbed one.
“Might make it easier?” I asked, and this surprised her, eyes blinking.
“Thanks.” So obviously curious about the gesture, she eyed me. She shrugged. “And sorry about the bumps before. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No, I wasn’t.” I held up my phone for emphasis. “These things are like crack.”
A snort, a light and bubbly snort when she’d been a little cold before. Well, my joke made her laugh now, I guess, and nodding, she agreed.
“For sure,” she said, and when I grabbed some apples, she noticed mine. “Those look better than mine.”
“Well, the trick is the color. And the feel too. See.” I pressed down, then let her. “I think the ones you have just aren’t quite ripe. Let me help you.”
“Yeah?” She appeared shocked, and I grinned.
“Yeah, no problem.”
Between the pair of us, we got a real good set together and got her bag so full she’d be eating apples for days. I had no idea where her parents were or if she was shopping herself, but she appeared to be alone.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually getting so
mething healthy, Dasha—”
At least, I believed she was alone, alone until another set of bright blue eyes and a cool grin came my way. It faded instantly upon seeing me, LJ with a cart in his hands and looking all domestic.
And how good he looked, leather jacket on and pushed up his mighty arms. He accompanied the ensemble with a set of well-worn jeans that sagged low at his hips and crisp white sneakers that matched his T-shirt. His hair was also a darkened blond, wet like he either put product in it or was just out the shower.
He swallowed upon seeing me, and this girl, Dasha, rolled her eyes at him.
“Don’t be an asshole,” she stated, making me blanch. No one talked to this guy like that. I was sure not even the police. Cradling the bag of apples, she propped a fist on her hip. “I was just trying to help you out since you eat well, Jesus.”
Judging by the contents of his cart, he didn’t, the thing filled to the brim with pizza bagels and cereal. I tried not to look at it, my attention mostly on him, and wetting my lips, I severed the attention back to the girl. She deposited the apples into the cart, then smiled at me.
“Thanks for your help before,” she said, truly shocking the fuck out of LJ, whose head snapped back. She directed a thumb at him. “This one’s no fucking help at all.”
“Watch it, attitude. Or you’ll be walking your ass back to the house.”
The girl merely jutted her shoulders at the LJ I’d come to know and love, and I had to give it to this girl. She had real moxie.
Giving him a little wink, Dasha waltzed right past LJ, moving onto some grapes and I considered the name as I looked at her.
Dasha…
That’d been the girl blowing up LJ’s phone, this girl.
Like LJ realized my thought process too, he studied me but made no comment. He nodded at my cart. “Doing a little grocery shopping?”
“Trying,” I said, all this so very awkward. I literally hadn’t talked to this guy outside of class, and the last time I had, we’d been screwing each other. I pulled down my hair, letting the red fall in thick tumbles, and LJ noticed.
His pupils dilated just a bit, his hands gripping his cart. Seemingly bothered, he glanced around, and I attempted to keep my heart in check. This guy screwed with my insides something awful, always did. He wet his lips. “You helped my sister?”
Confirmed, that she was indeed a relative, a sister, I felt really silly for how things did go down. I’d been wildly jealous, but then again, he hadn’t acted right either. My jaw moved. “Yeah. She didn’t know what she was doing. Picking apples?” But then I eased a look into his cart, smiling a little. “Seems someone hasn’t taught her much about produce.”
Eyes cut back, possibly a retort on his lips, but then that wicked grin that teased my heart. He rubbed his neck. “That obvious? I’m trying here but find myself giving her what she wants instead of what she actually needs. It’s always been that way. With all my sisters.”
A pushover, this guy?
As if he knew my thoughts again, his cheeks colored. Lance Johnson… flushing. Someone had to be playing a trick on me. He grinned. “I admit I could do better. Dasha’s staying with me for a little while. Albeit, temporarily.”
A middle finger lifted from the grapes area, Dasha when she flipped her brother off, and I had to bite back my smile.
“And as you can see, she has a hell of an attitude,” he grunted, then sighed. “She and my mom have been bumping heads lately so…”
She was staying with him.
“I need you. Can you come get me?”
And hence the text messages. Feeling even more stupid, I covered my arms, but I noticed LJ glance away as well. I may have jumped to conclusions, yes, but I wasn’t the only party involved that day at his house.
He let me go to that place after all.
“Anyway, I better get back.”
“Of course,” I said, starting to let him walk away, but then something had me intercepting him.
His eyes followed me over to a quick dinner kit, one the store put together with veggies as a feature. I held it up. “Maybe better than pizza rolls?”
Chapter Eighteen
LJ
Billie was good with my sister, which said something considering what a sarcastic little shit my sister could be. I loved Dasha, I did, but I equally wanted to strangle her most days. Especially since she constantly gave lip to Mom. The two fought like cats and dogs, and since I wasn’t there now to play referee, they’d been getting into it more than usual. Dash only had to get to the end of the school year.
But she couldn’t even manage to do that.
I watched her with Billie now, the beauty queen teaching my sister how to make gravy. As far as my sister was concerned, Billie was just a friend, and that friend managed to get all kinds of messy cooking with my sister. The pair played with shit like cornstarch, getting it all over each other since it was messy. Billie literally had some on her nose and Dasha on her cheeks, smiling at Billie in ways she didn’t often. All my sisters had their issues, just like me, but I think it’d been Dash to take Dad’s leaving the hardest back then. She remembered him just like I had, and even though she tried pretty good in school, she had a fair amount of bullies and a temper that could match mine most days. She didn’t make things easy for Mom, but for whatever reason, Dash was able to put that shit away now and cook with Billie. Her first rounds of gravy had been truly awful-looking, lumpy and shit, and just when I thought she’d go into a Dasha meltdown, Billie was able to talk her off the ledge. Billie was patient with her, truly listened to her, and I could tell that meant so much to my sister. She put that attitude right away and cooked beside Billie, listening to everything she said.
I didn’t know how I felt about that, watching them from the kitchen island while I tried to do some homework. Honest to God, I thought Billie and I were over, my fascination with her done when I’d deliberately put space between us. Things were getting too heavy for me, and my sister needing me had been a good excuse to cut things off. I hadn’t planned to step back that day, and really, I’d been completely obsessed with the beauty queen at that point it wasn’t even funny. I couldn’t see where she ended and I began, and it took my sister’s text, family needing me, to show me my priorities. Billie was still linked to her dad, and though I wasn’t tied to the Marvellis anymore, that fact still remained. I wasn’t trying to work up any shit with the Marvelli family for getting involved with enemy ties. I literally couldn’t for the sake of my family, which meant Billie Coventry was trouble.
But fuck me, if I didn’t want to take a walk on the wild side.
Currently, Billie wiggled her little bottom behind my laptop. Mashing up potatoes from that veggie kit she’d bought, she pretended real damn good she wasn’t aware of me staring at her. She laughed with my sister, teasing her on occasion, but every so often, I did get a glance over her shoulder in my direction. She was well aware of me, just as I was of her.
Why can’t I get this girl out of my head?
A spoon in her hand, Billie sprinted on over to me in her black leggings and sweater that hung off her freckled shoulder like the ultimate tease. I wanted to drag my tongue across every freckle, flick and sample that sweet skin. I wanted to make her quiver and sweat just like I had that day in my bed, but I pretended not to notice her coming over.
She pushed the spoon in front of me, something orange on the top.
“What’s this?”
She nudged it with a grin. “Just try it.”
As aloof as my ass pretended to be, I didn’t need to be told twice. I took that spoon right into my mouth. Pure heaven, I actually groaned, and Billie giggled, shooting heat action straight into my pants. The fucker couldn’t seem to keep his mind on anything serious, cramming for exams apparently not as big of a deal as Billie’s ass wiggling in skintight leggings.
“It’s orange marmalade for the biscuits.”
So much pride flashed across her glittering eyes. In fact, so drawn our gazes c
lashed, hard.
A lip chew and Billie passed her attention back over to my sister, who looked pretty fucking hilarious in an apron and oven mitt. One would have thought she was Suzy Homemaker outside of that expensive ass jacket she wore and designer kicks, all gifts from me. What could I say? I loved treating my siblings. Currently, sis pulled some biscuits out the oven, and Billie grinned at her. “Dasha made the marmalade. The biscuits too.”
Shocked to hell, my brow jumped, and Dasha happened to catch that after depositing the biscuits on the counter. She shot her middle finger up at me. “Don’t look so surprised.”
I raised my hands in defense. “Didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t have to.” An eye roll before she smiled at Billie. “Can we make dessert now?”
A little Gordon Ramsey when she’d never made anything she couldn’t defrost or nuke in her entire life. At least, as far as I knew.
Duty calling, Billie got right to work at the request. The pair pulled out a cookbook I didn’t even know I had, and I was so busy watching them I nearly missed my buddy Niko. He came sliding on into the kitchen, his jacket on and a set of keys in hand. He appeared to be going when I didn’t even remember hearing him come in.
“Something smells damn good.” Fucker dipped his pinkie in the mashed potatoes, sampling with a pop in his mouth.
Billie growled at him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously, what?” He winked at her before tipping his chin at Dasha. “Sup, little Jay?”
His nickname for her and never ceased to shoot my sister’s cheeks up like ten degrees in color.
Forgetting about dessert and the cookbook completely, Dasha leaned over the counter at him. “Hey? You eating with us tonight?”
“Nah, I can’t.” Bouncing around, the asshole literally tasted everything in the room. As he reached an actual hand for the potatoes, Billie hit him with an oven mitt and that seemed to keep the garbage disposal at bay. He chuckled. “Got some business to take care of. Otherwise, I would.”
