She turns to me. Spreads her arms to offer a hug.
I stare back at her.
Her honey eyes soften. “Of course.” She fights a frown as she offers her hand.
I take it. Shake.
“You look good, Ryan. Happy.” She wraps her arms around her fiancé. “Aren’t they a cute couple, Frank?”
He nods for sure.
She still prefers quiet guys.
I’ll give her that much.
“It was sweet of Dean to invite us.” She tugs at Frank’s white t-shirt. “Should we go over and say thanks?”
Dean is still on the other side of the backyard, sitting in a blue and white striped lounge chair, staring at Penny like she’s the devil incarnate.
“Later.” I motion to the sliding glass door to the house. “Bathroom’s inside if you need to change.”
Her lips curl into a frown. “I know.”
“How long was it you and Ryan were together?” Leighton copies Penny’s gesture. She slides her arm around my waist, pulls my body into hers, rests her head on my shoulder. “I forget.”
Penny fails to fight her frown. “Nine years. But Ryan only lived at home for the first few.”
“Oh. Of course. So that means the two of you started dating when you were—”
“I was sixteen. He was seventeen.” She tugs Frank’s arm. “Will you get me a drink, sweetie?”
He shoots her a curious look. Are you okay? Or maybe do you really expect me to trust you with your ex after the way we started? “You want anything to eat?”
“No. We have dinner with my parents.” She finally manages a smile. “Daddy has been really supportive.”
“I imagine.” He must be jazzed about Penny upgrading from tattoo artist to finance bro. “How’s work?”
Her honey eyes fill with frustration. She blinks and it’s gone. “Great, actually. I just got a promotion.”
“Oh? What do you do?” Leighton asks.
“Ryan never mentioned it?” Penny asks.
“No.” Leighton pulls me closer. “We don’t really talk about the past. Well, most of the time, we aren’t exactly talking.”
My laugh dissolves the tension in my shoulders.
She’s too good at this.
I rest my hand on Leighton’s hip. Right over the strap of her tiny bikini. “Baby, you’re insatiable today.”
“Look at what you’re wearing.” Her fingers skim my bare stomach. She draws circles on my skin.
My eyelids press together.
That feels too fucking good.
Too fucking real.
I pull every soft inch of her body against mine.
Lean down to press my lips to hers.
Her hand knots in my hair. She holds my head against hers, sucking on my bottom lip.
Groaning as I scrape my teeth against her lip.
My body wakes up.
Desire races through my veins.
Blood flows south.
Finally, I feel the warmth of the sun.
No, it’s her. Every soft inch of her.
Then she pulls back, and Penny is there, and clouds are everywhere again.
Fuck, this is confusing.
I shake it off. Step into my role.
Acting isn’t my strong suit. But I know Penny well enough to do this.
She’s standing there, her wide-brimmed straw hat casting a shadow over her pretty face. She’s as beautiful as she was the day we met. Still a head shorter than I am. Still model thin. Still polished.
“I work in marketing.” She digs a French manicured nail into the tip of her thumb. “My father works with Ryan’s.”
“Oh.” Leighton’s blue-green eyes bore into mine. “At the ‘anonymous’ MBA job.”
“They introduced us when we were kids,” Penny says. “Mom used to tease me about how I was going to marry Ryan one day.”
“Her parents lost interest in that idea after I got my first tattoo.” My fingers go to the Latin quote on Leighton’s ribs. Trace the letters.
Her lips part with a sigh. Her knees press together. Her head turns to one side.
This is doing something to her.
Something that isn’t pretend.
I should stop.
But I can’t.
It feels too good, my hands on her skin.
“No.” Penny’s gaze goes to my hand. She watches as I trace the lines of Leighton’s tattoo again and again. “Mom always loved you. She still does.” She turns. Watches Frank laugh at something Dean is saying. “She’s had a lot of unkind words for me.”
“She wasn’t big on you cheating on Ryan? Imagine that?” Leighton snaps.
The anger in her voice wakes me from my trance.
We’re not doing this to send blood to my cock.
We’re not doing it to fill that gaping hole in my gut.
She’s doing this to protect me.
I need to protect her too.
Dean is an idiot, but he’s right about one thing: I need to be careful with Leighton.
The sun fades behind the clouds as I pull my hand from her skin.
Her sigh is heavy. Needy. She shakes it off. Turns to Penny. “I’m sorry. That was—”
“No. You’re right.” Penny smooths her sundress. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, Ryan. I am sorry. I understand if you don’t believe me. But I hope you do. I really want us to be friends.” She looks to Leighton. “Would you mind?”
Leighton clears her throat. “Would I mind what?” Anger drips into her voice. Her eyes narrow. Her heels dig into the concrete.
“If I spoke to Ryan alone?” Penny’s smile is soft. Disarming.
The girl I fell in love with.
But it doesn’t mean shit to Leighton.
She looks to me. “It’s up to you. I’d rather we go up to your room.” Her fingers trail the waistband of my board shorts.
Fuck.
I want her hands on my skin.
I want these clothes gone.
I want her naked in my bed.
Thoughts of baseball do jack shit to cool me down.
“Give us a minute, baby.” I brush Leighton’s wet hair behind her ear.
Leighton frowns. “Are you sure?” Concern fills her blue-green eyes. She folds her arms, glares at Penny. I’ll kill you if you hurt him.
Or maybe I’ll kill you if you touch him.
“Yeah.” I need her gone or I’m gonna touch her. I’m gonna forget this is pretend. I pull back. “Go. Eat. You look starved, baby.”
“I am.” Leighton makes a show of giving me a long once-over. Her gaze lingers on my crotch. “But food isn’t going to satisfy.” She shoots Penny a forced smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
“You’re both coming to the joint bachelor, bachelorette party, aren’t you?” Penny’s voice is soft. Sincere. She really does want us there.
To rub her marriage in my face.
To make amends.
To prove something to herself about how over me she is.
All of the above, maybe.
Leighton looks to me. Raises a brow. “It depends.”
I return her gesture.
“Will there be cock lollipops?” She smiles.
Penny laughs. “Mom is planning it.”
“So yeah.” I can’t help but laugh. Mrs. Winters is fun. Sarcastic. Punk rock. Everything Penny was when we fell in love.
Now…
I’m not sure who the hell my ex is now.
Leighton nods your call, spins on her heel, saunters to the grill.
I watch her ass sway as she walks away.
Fight my urge to go after her.
To bend her over the patio table, roll her bikini bottoms to her knees, and drive into her again and again.
“She hates me, doesn’t she?” Penny presses her French manicured nail into her middle finger.
“You blame her?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I would hate me too.”
“Do you?”
“Hate myself? Is that what you want?”
Part of me does.
The rest just wants to be done with her.
“When I first saw the two of you together…” Her honey eyes fix on mine. “There’s something about the way she looks at you.”
“What’s your point?”
“Does she treat you well?”
“Excuse me?”
“What?” She runs her fingers through her dark hair. “I know I hurt you, Ryan. I know what I did was shitty. But it wasn’t because I stopped loving you.”
“Then what the fuck was I’m sorry, but I don’t love you anymore.”
Her eyes go to the floor. “I’ll always love you—”
“Spare me the bullshit about how you love me but you aren’t in love with me.”
“I am. I mean, I was.” She bites her lip. “Hate me if you want. Kick me out of your house. It won’t change how I feel.” Her fingers curl around my wrist. “I want the best for you. I always have.”
“Like walking in on you with the kind of guy we used to mock?”
“I made a mistake.”
“You made a mistake?”
“I should have left as soon as I realized it. But it wasn’t just me.”
My jaw cricks. We had rough patches, same as everyone, but I always tried to smooth them.
“After I took that job with my dad…” Her eyes meet mine. “You lost respect for me.” Her gaze goes to the patio tables. Frank is sitting at the one on the left. Mutual friends fill the one on the right.
Leighton is M.I.A.
Probably pissing or something.
Or fucking Dean in his bed.
My fingers curl into fists.
I need to step back. Cool off. Destroy the part of me that cares.
A deep breath does nothing to offer clarity. Penny is still standing there, staring at me like I’m a horse with a broken leg.
Like she’s so, so sorry she’s gonna have to put me down.
Fuck that.
Fuck Dean’s vagueness.
Fuck Leighton’s secrets.
I stare at my ex. “You looked me in the eyes and asked me to strangle you if you ever decided to work for your dad.”
“When I was sixteen.”
“So?”
“People change.”
“I didn’t.”
“You ever consider that’s why this happened?”
“You decided to fuck some finance bro. Don’t put that on me.”
“He’s more than that.”
“Tall?”
“Ryan.” She folds her arms. “I’m barely five three. You think I really notice that?”
“Blond?”
Her lips purse. “No. It’s not because he’s more attractive than you. He’s not.”
There’s no victory in her admission.
Only another twist of the knife in my gut.
“He’s not better in bed. He’s not blessed with a bigger cock. Or more stamina.”
“Then what—”
“He talks to me.”
“I talked to you.”
“When we were kids, yeah. But one day, you stopped. I still remember it. I still remember coming home to you with this glum look on your face, asking you what was wrong, and getting nothing.”
I shake my head.
I offered her everything I had.
Everything.
And it wasn’t enough.
I always suspected that, but now I know for sure.
“He listened. He cared. He didn’t stare at me like I was the enemy for taking the job my dad offered,” she says. “He didn’t expect anything of me.”
“I only wanted the best for you.”
“Your best.”
“No. Our best. What we both agreed on—”
Regret streaks her honey eyes. “I’m not here to fight.”
“Then why’d you pick one?”
“I just want to know you’re okay.”
No. I’m not okay. But fuck her for asking.
For caring.
For looking at the cracks.
Her lip corners turn down.
Her eyes fill with frustration.
Her perfect posture slumps.
She’s miserable.
And there’s still a part of me that wants to promise her it’s going to be okay.
Chapter 16
Leighton
It flashes in my head for the hundredth time—
Penny’s French-manicured nails digging into Ryan’s tattooed forearm. Her laugh filling the air as she leans closer. Whispers some memory about old times. About how thoroughly he fucked her. How much she misses his lips, his fingers, his cock.
I suck the last drop of Grey Goose from my straw. Unscrew the cap on the bottle. Fill my glass to the brim.
That’s enough to knock me out all afternoon.
This is complete hypocrisy.
It’s pathetic, drowning my feelings in booze.
But I don’t care.
I need these awful mental images gone.
The two of them in this bed, him tearing off her pretty cardigan, her unzipping his tight jeans. Sliding them off his hips. Trailing her lips down his stomach.
His hands in her long, dark hair.
It’s so long. And dark. And pretty.
She’s gorgeous. In that striking way. In a New York City kind of way. In a she had nine years in his bed, and she’s already a cheater, she’s probably not going to keep her hands off him kind of way.
I suck vodka through my straw. It’s crisp. Clean. Clear.
But it fails to ease the tension in my shoulders.
I drain the glass. Leave it—and the bottle—on the black dresser.
Ryan hasn’t lived here for nearly a decade, but this room still screams of him. Posters for gritty thrillers and indie bands cover the black walls. White string lights line the ceiling.
When I pull the blackout curtains—black, of course—the sun disappears.
The room goes dark.
I flip the switch and the string lights glow like stars.
Mood lighting.
Lighting to fuck by.
Or fuck yourself by.
I press my eyelids together. Attempt to destroy my mental images of Penny and Ryan with much more appealing ones.
It doesn’t work.
I see them. Here. There. Everywhere.
The room spins as I fall onto the black bedspread. It smells like him.
It’s not him.
But it’s warm and comforting all the same.
I wrap myself in the blanket, close my eyes, try to convince myself to stop imagining Ryan and Penny’s conversation.
I fail.
Light floods the room.
The door presses closed.
“Fuck, Leigh.” Ryan’s voice flows into my ears.
I wipe my eyes. Pull the blanket tighter.
“This is healthy.”
“Fuck off.”
The weight on the bed shifts as Ryan sits behind me. His fingers trail my upper arm. My shoulder. “What are you doing in my bed with a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose?”
“You’re out of Belvedere.”
“That’s why you’re trying to destroy your liver?”
No, I’m trying to destroy my mental images of the two of them together. “It’s a party.”
“You look like you’re having fun.”
“Are you here to berate me?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
His voice gets soft. “I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
He makes that what the hell noise.
His fingers curl into my shoulder. He tugs at my skin. Turn around. Look at me. Offer me everything you have to give.
My breath is shaky. “I don’t feel good.”
“Wonder why.” He nudges me again. Look at me.
I don’t. “If you want fun, let’s go outside. Swim. Why don’t you swim?”
“The chlorine fuc
ks with my contacts.”
“Take them out.”
“Nobody sees me in my glasses.”
He’s right. Somehow, he’s spent the night at my place a dozen times, and I’ve still never seen him in his glasses.
“Okay. Fine. We can dare someone else to skinny dip,” I say.
“Dare?”
“What’s wrong with a dare?”
“You Dean all of a sudden?”
“Good idea. We’ll get Dean to start a truth or dare game. You can ask Penny if Boat Shoes has a bigger cock—”
“I don’t give a fuck about his cock.”
“What if that was why she left?”
“It wasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I hug the blanket. Every petty, immature impulse rises in my throat. I’m a teenager again, crying at a party because the guy I like is never going to like me back.
Because there’s no one waiting at home to wrap their arms around me and promise it will be okay.
I grew up taking care of myself.
I can do it again.
But it feels so good, letting Ryan take care of me.
Letting him in.
I can’t give that up.
He brushes a wet hair behind my ear. “You need to know something, Leigh.”
“Yeah?”
“I have an exclusive on crying in this room.”
“Is that right?”
“I’m the only person allowed to be miserable in here.”
“Scribble no one understands me in your sketchbook?”
“Exactly.”
“Draw I hate my parents on your arm?”
He shakes his head. “Angry lyrics.”
“Linkin Park?”
“Everybody my age screamed Linkin Park at some point.”
“You’re forty, right?”
He chuckles. “You want to know a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I’m a vampire.”
My laugh breaks up the tension in my shoulders. “Is that right?”
“Yeah. I’m four hundred.”
“Is that why you avoid the sun?”
“People would see me sparkle.”
“You do sparkle.”
“That a compliment?”
“Yeah.”
His fingers skim my neck. Shoulders. Arm.
His touch is impossibly soft. Impossibly sweet. Impossibly loving.
But he doesn’t love me. He’s still wrapped up in her. It’s obvious in the way he looks at her.
“Leigh.” He tugs at the blanket. “Look at me.”
Pretend You're Mine Page 11
