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Feeling like I’d somehow offended him by not seeing him at eight, I tried to hand him the helmet. “Thanks again, Leo. I had an amazing time.”
He gently pushed the helmet back at me. “Keep it, it’s yours. And I had an amazing time as well. Now get in your fucking apartment before I rip that tight suit off your ridiculously hot body, bend you over my bike, and fuck you in front of your neighbors. Show them who you belong to.”
Thankfully he said the last part low enough that I was probably the only one who’d heard him—well, me and the girl from down the hall, who was now staring at us with her mouth hanging open a couple paces away and her tanned cheeks darkened with a hard blush.
“Hannah,” Leo growled, “eyes on me.”
Without thought, I did as he commanded, already responding to his orders like I’d been born to do it. I’d be more concerned about my sudden passivity if it didn’t feel so good to let him take charge. Handsome, successful, and so charismatic, he was a man who obviously had his life together and knew who he was and what he was doing. I was more like a lump of half-formed clay, waiting for someone to finish me off, to help me find the shape I was meant to be.
“Good girl,” he said in that same low, growly voice. “Entirely too tempting. I’ll see you at nine. Text me when you get back to your apartment so I know you’re safe.”
His concern over my safety made me all glowy inside. “Okay, goodbye, Leo.”
“Don’t say goodbye.”
“What?”
“Say, ‘I’ll see you soon’. Say it, Hannah.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Before you know it.”
With that, he smiled and put his helmet back on, leaving me with a wet crotch and cursing the fact I wasn’t wearing panties.
During an uncomfortable walk through the small foyer of my building, I smiled at the people openly staring at me, faces I’ve seen a hundred times who never gave me a second look. Now, dressed like some rich street racer’s girlfriend out of an action flick, I had their attention. One guy who was cute even tried to hit on me, but I found him completely lacking, and for the first time in my life, didn’t feel desperate for more of a man’s attention.
There was only one man I wanted thinking about me, lusting after me, and it wasn’t the sad excuse for manhood from unit 5A, who regularly left his laundry moldering away in the communal washers on the main floor.
By the time I made it to my apartment, I had about twenty minutes to get ready before I had to leave for class. I needed to get in, get dressed, and get my shit together.
This plan was thwarted by Joy and Kayla both being in the kitchen, arguing about who needed to do the dishes. Joy wore jeans and one of her blazers, probably on her way to her job as a tutor for rich and spoiled kids. Joy’s blonde hair was up in an artful bun, and her tanned cheeks were dark red, her body language promising violence as she yelled that she did not have time to clean up Kayla’s shit, and that we were going to get fruit flies.
I wasn’t surprised in the least to see that the sink was full of Kayla’s crap, and I knew there was no way Joy was going to clean up after her.
No, that fun job was reserved for me, because even though I didn’t like it, I let Kayla guilt me into doing it, unable to handle it when she’d basically shun me for not doing what she wanted.
Except, for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t guilt-ridden for being mad that Kayla couldn’t clean up after herself for one damn day.
“Just clean up your shit,” Joy yelled, her cheeks flushed with anger. “You’re disgusting! There’s a moldy bowl of oatmeal in there that has dried to concrete. How long has it been since you picked up after yourself?”
“I don’t have time—”
“You don’t have time? Are you kidding me? Hannah and I both work full time and go to school; what the hell do you do? Attend your one class? Bullshit. You party until six a.m., drag your ass in here and sleep all day, then get up long enough to destroy everything Hannah spent all day cleaning before going out with your new fucktard dealer friends and getting wasted.”
Kayla squinted her eyes and dramatically threw her dish into the sink, milk and cereal splashing everywhere, including the wall, and one lone piece of brightly colored cereal slid down the window. “Fuck you!”
Before Joy could respond, I said in a low, super-pissed voice as I set my helmet down on the small foyer table, “I am not cleaning that up.”
