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There. I lower the weight. Leave it in its stand.

"Fuck. It's bad if you can't think up something snappy," he says.

"Leigh would kill you for calling her that."

"Yeah, probably."

"She'd obviously say Dean, you're so hot. Why'd I end up with your broody older brother when I could have nabbed you instead?"

"Yeah, I see her doubting that relationship."

"Gotta figure the moping gets old eventually."

"Not like she pined for his brooding ass for two years or anything."

"You know women. Want to fix the broken guy."

"That why none of them stick with you?"

"I'm just too functional," I say.

He laughs no fucking way. "Are you jealous she's with Ryan?"

Once upon a time, maybe. I wanted Leighton, but it wasn't her I wanted. It was that she played hot and cold. It was the challenge.

Yeah, I'm an asshole. But it gets old having women eating out of the palm of my hand.

"I thought she was into you for a while," Walker says.

"Nah. Ryan is her everything."

"They're disgusting."

"And you and Iris?"

"That's different. We're poetry."

"Poetry, huh?"

He nods.

"So, baby, I want you to come on my face—"

"If you're trying to suggest that isn't poetry, I'm not hearing it."

"Should we ask Kay?"

He laughs. "You're deflecting like a fucking mirror."

"Mirrors reflect."

"Whatever. You know what I mean."

Yeah, I do.

"What is it Leighton says?"

I shrug like I don't know. Leighton likes to pull out the Shakespearean quotes. And there's one that fits this situation.

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