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Upon investigating the source of her almost-tumble down the stairs, Piper found her bag was hooked on a bush. Typical. Several hard pulls later, the greedy plant still wouldn’t let up. She genuinely thought she might have to give in and let the bush have this one.
“Bush versus Piper, who will win?” Leo’s voice called as if he were an announcer at an MMA fight. Piper looked over her shoulder to watch him walk up the staircase wearing an amused expression. It always irritated her how graceful he looked doing mundane tasks. He was like a cat: fluid and arrogant.
“Following me around like a pesky fly now?” Piper asked, still trying to free her bag and getting more frustrated by the minute.
“Buzz,” Leo deadpanned before reaching out and unhooking her bag with one deft flick of his wrist. “Maybe you should work on learning how to walk instead of dating every guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to humanity.”
“Says the guy who has a massive god complex.”
“My partially Catholic mother would be none too thrilled with that assessment. Just out of curiosity, do you have some weird kink where you enjoy getting slapped around by both man-children and inanimate objects?” Leo gestured to the bush.
“I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, and if I wanted to date a man-child, I would just date you.” Piper gave him her best villainous smile, but she hadn’t perfected the art of being rude like Leo had, so she probably just looked constipated.
“Mmm.” Leo tilted his head from side to side like he was weighing the options. “I’ll pass. My standards are a little higher than that. I’m forever curious as to when you’re going to grow a spine and get some standards of your own, though.” He held up one finger for each name he listed off: “Harden, Christopher, Parker, Tre, Dante, Tristan, Conrad, and finally, Todd. I almost ran out of fingers, Piper. Each one of them was a walking red flag, and you fell for it every time.”
“Okay, one, you pay way too close attention to my dating history, and two, we’re in the twenty-first century. Slut shaming is in poor taste. Plus, if I recall, you’re not doing so hot on the dating front, either. I haven’t seen you flaunting a new girl around campus lately.” Piper folded her arms over her chest, eyebrows raised.
“Slut shaming wasn’t what I was going for. Sex is fun. I don’t knock anyone for it. And if by ‘flaunt’ you mean holding hands because that’s what couples do, then sure. You don’t have to be jealous just because whatever douchebro you’re dating at the time doesn’t act like a real boyfriend.”
“Fuck you.” Piper scrunched her nose, trying to search within herself to come up with anything better. But Leo was right. Todd, for example, had claimed that he wasn’t into PDA until any given house party, where his concerns magically evaporated and he’d make out with her against a wall in front of everyone. Todd was horrendous at that, too. His mouth was always uncomfortably wet, and his tongue usually tasted like stale beer. She had only ever felt like a conquest when it came to guys, but admitting that didn’t make Leo’s words hurt any less.
“You know I’m right, don’t you?” Leo lifted his chin with pride. “You only date them because they’re meatheads with surfer hair and money. You’d be able to see right through them if you could get past their appearance and status.”
“I don’t date them for their looks or money!” Piper shouted. A group of baby-faced freshmen sitting on the lawn a short distance away looked up from their books, and Piper cringed, lowering her voice. “I don’t.”
“Whatever you say, princesita.” Without another word, Leo looked her up and down with distaste and jogged back down the stairs, most likely slinking off to the underworld so he could go back to being Satan’s personal bitch.
Piper stared after him, seething. It wasn’t her fault that the only men who ever showed interest in her were jerks. They always pretended to be nice in the beginning. Granted, there had been plenty of red flags waving for each one of her ex-boyfriends, but red seemed to be her favorite color, and oddly enough, those guys were the safest option to cut ties with. It was impossible to have a broken heart when she had no real stake in the game to begin with. No one could hurt her if she didn’t allow them that power. Love was for people who could handle heartbreak or for bitter people like Leo who could move on easily because they never had a heart to begin with.
Two
LEO
All broke college students scraping by on a hefty scholarship and sheer will were bound to have a lemon of a vehicle that couldn’t be counted on for shit. Leo’s bucket of rusty bolts required a bit of finagling to get running, and it was perpetually in need of a new part he couldn’t afford. That was how he ended up jogging two miles to get to class and how he had witnessed Piper Hartrick getting dumped for the hundredth time by some shit-for-brains guy with a flat-brimmed hat. Frankly, it was none of his business how many entitled assholes Piper wanted to date, but her “I’m perfect” act had always pissed him off.
Every encounter with Piper always had Leo running home to his boxing gloves and punching bag that was a little worse for wear with its multiple duct-taped patches. He’d been feeling tired earlier that morning, but Piper had turned him electric and energized with one bickering conversation. Talking to her always felt like a live wire current was running through his veins. He could have arguments with other people and not get so easily ramped up, but Piper was different. Her words always pricked his skin and drew blood, burrowed into his muscles and sank into his bones. He had told himself a thousand times that he didn’t care what fake, spoiled brats believed about him, and yet, he was currently drenched in sweat and probably going to piss off his neighbors with how hard he was going to town with his boxing drills. At least he’d purposely gotten a ground-floor apartment for that specific reason. He wasn’t completely inconsiderate, despite what Piper thought.
Hatred fueled Leo’s punches as every psh-psh of his mitts had him huffing and puffing. Boxing was always the best way to run him ragged. That, or sex, and the latter hadn’t happened with anything other than his hand in a while. Unfortunately, his cock tended to have a mind of its own when it came to Piper, too. Anatomy didn’t care that her personality was the epitome of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, and his had decided that it didn’t mind the verbal abuse. If he wasn’t so dominant in the bedroom, he would have thought he might be a masochist or something.
Growing up as the son of a part-time boxing instructor had its perks, one of which was knowing how to school his anger and his sex drive. When Leo was a kid, he and all his siblings had practically lived at their father’s second job in the evenings thanks to their free admission to the gym. Mateo made sure his kids could defend themselves. For a long time, before both Leo’s parents got jobs at Lydia’s Grocery and moved them the hell out of California, they had lived in the bad part of a town where gang activity was heavy and witnessing drug deals was scarily frequent. Everyone learned to keep their nose out of everyone else’s business, but they could also hold their own if they needed to. Hell, because of their father’s instruction, Leo’s sister would probably never need him to defend her. Mariana could easily bury a body herself. But if she ever did need help, Leo and his three brothers would happily wipe the floor with anyone who bothered to mess with their little sister or their mother. The Diazes could either be your best accomplice or your worst nightmare.
The door swung inward, and Leo momentarily paused his drill to look toward the doorway, where his best friend and roommate, Sam, was standing. “It sounds like someone’s getting it on in here.”
“If you thought that, why did you just barge into my room?” Leo scoffed.
“Good point.” Sam tapped his temple and then called out over his shoulder. “He’s still not getting any!”
“Thanks for the play-by-play,” a voice called back.
“Wes is here?” Leo asked, peering over Sam’s bony shoulder.
“Yeah, we’re doing flashcards for his next organic chemistry exam, so if you could keep it down with your non-sexual activity, we would appreciate it.” The twang in Sam’s voice had a scolding tone to it, but it lacked any real heat. Sam jabbed a thumb over his shoulder then combed his fingers through his straight blond hair. “Wes is a stress case right now.”
“You know I can hear you, right?” Wes yelled from the living room. Sam’s boyfriend was pre-med and frequently had a mound of things he needed to study for. His expertise came in handy any time Leo was sick or injured. Despite the fact that Wes wasn’t an actual doctor yet, both his rich parents were, and when he didn’t know the answers, he didn’t mind making his parents pro bono for Leo and Sam since neither of them had a pot to piss in—a phrase Leo had picked up from Sam’s Kentucky vernacular.
“While I’m here,” Sam blazed ahead, ignoring Wes, “any update on the Sarah Brown situation?”
“Don’t remind me.” Leo frowned and pulled his boxing gloves off, tossing them onto his dark green comforter before starting to peel off his hand wraps with clammy fingers.
