Side Game (Men of Trance Book 2)

by Nicole Loufas

  I don’t really know how that goes. I always use a condom.

  “I didn’t want to take the pill, not before boot camp. Diaphragms aren’t bullet-proof. In my case, it wasn’t sperm-proof either.”

  I respond with head nods. Nothing I say will add to the conversation. Nothing nice.

  “Accidental pregnancies are always the woman’s fault. The man is never shamed. They’re pitied. Poor dude, his girl is trapping him. He’s on the hook for eighteen years of child support, eighteen years of hell.”

  She’s right. I’m guilty of this very thing. I don’t know how many times I accused Leeyan on trapping Theo. I always assumed she wanted to get knocked up. Yeah, she boohooed about it, but I thought it was an act.

  “As a society, we consider a part-time father an okay person if he pays child support and sees the kid on birthdays and holidays. A woman can never walk away. Not without a lifetime of shame. On the rare occasion a woman doesn’t want children, we assume there is something biologically wrong with her. We brand her as selfish, damaged. I’m not saying I wish my daughter was never born,” she insists.

  “I get where you’re coming from. You weren’t prepared to be a mother.”

  She takes a drink from her glass. “It’s more than that. I never wanted to be a mother. But when it came time to make that choice, I couldn’t deny Theo the opportunity to be a father.”

  Everything in me is saying to believe her. Theo’s life changed the moment he found out Leeyan was pregnant. He became a man.

  “You think I’m a horrible person,” she states.

  “No.”

  “You haven’t said very much.” Her eyes are lazy from the alcohol.

  “It’s a lot to take in.”

  She closes her eyes, cuts me off. “I just want the chance to make it right. Do I at least deserve that?”

  “Of course you do.”

  I reach over the line and touch her arm. It relaxes beneath my hand, and she inches closer to the center of the couch, the safe zone. I adjust my cock so it’s pointing in the other direction.

  Her shoulder leans into the cushion beside me. We stare at each other the way drunks do when they contemplate bad ideas.

  My heart races like I’m crouched behind home plate, calling for a fastball when we’re one pitch away from winning the game. I place my glass on the table. When I start making baseball analogies—I’ve had enough.

  She sets her glass beside mine. “This has gone so much better than I thought it would.”

  “You’re not as cunty as I thought you’d be.”

  She kicks me softly. “And you’re not the big dick I thought you were.”

  “Honey, you have no idea how big a dick I can be.”

  Her eyes dip to my package. I snatch the pillow from her lap and place it in mine before my dick decides to wave hello.

  She tries to steal the pillow back.

  I block her hand.

  A split second later she’s on her knees leaning into me, fighting over the pillow. We’re laughing like kids—kids who aren’t thinking about sex or boundaries. This is uncharted territory for me.

  Could this be the friend zone?

  “There are like three other pillows—why do you want this one?” I’m hugging the pillow to my chest. She has no chance. Even so, she tugs at the corner as if her life depends on it.

  “Because you have it,” she taunts. “Plus, I had it first!”

  She gives the pillow a good yank and I let it go. She falls onto her back.

  “I win!” Her legs flail in the air like a turtle trying to get right side up.

  “I let you win.”

  “That’s still a win.” She’s sassy now. “Manipulating an enemy into conceding is just as good as beating them in combat—army 101.” She victoriously settles into her corner of the couch.

  We take a few seconds to catch our breath.

  She places the pillow behind her head. “I like this, whatever it is.”

  “It’s comfortable,” I admit. It’s the roof.

  “I forgot how easy it was to talk to you.”

  “It’s one of my better traits.”

  “Women pay for this?” She swirls her finger around.

  I give her my best smolder. “They pay for this.”

  I lean forward, resting my arms across her legs.

  “And this.”

  I run my hand up her thigh and hook my thumb in the waistband of her sweats. My dick has full control of the situation.

  “How much does this cost?”

  “Depends on what happens next.”

  “Hypothetically speaking, say I wanted to kiss you—does that cost more? Is kissing an a la carte item? Do you even kiss, or is that just in movies?” She rambles, nervously.

  “I kiss, not always open mouth. I try to avoid making out. Making out is a time suck. Since I’m being paid by the hour, I skip the foreplay.”

  “That isn’t true,” she corrects. “Everything leading up to this was foreplay. Sitting here, talking, touching.”

  Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

  “I’m not saying we—this—is foreplay. If I were a client…” She stumbles over her words. “If I were paying for your time, this would be worth every penny.”

  I’m still leaning over her with my fingers in the waist of her pants. Her breathing accelerates; my balls tighten.

  “Maybe we should call it a night.” I sit up.

  She stops me. “Wait.”

  A pink strand of hair sticks to her cheek. I want to move it. I want an excuse to touch her. She looks at me extremely vulnerable. That’s impossible because Leeyan is strong in every way. Her arms are lean, muscular. Her body is well defined. She probably benches twice her weight. It isn’t her outside that’s giving me a reaction. It’s something else, something more profound.

  I care.

  Caring is dangerous. Caring leads to feelings. I can’t afford to feel right now. I won’t let a little whiskey fuck up my life.

  “There’s a blanket in the closet next to the bathroom.” I stand. “Goodnight, Leeyan.”

  “Just so you know—" She lays down, taking up the full length of the couch. “—I fully expect to collect my dance.”

  Her cocky attitude ignites my ego. Leeyan Flores is challenging me, and I never back down from a challenge.

  Chapter Six

  Sleeping was difficult with Leeyan in the other room. I spent most of the night trying to figure out how I’m going to explain this to Theo. The woman he gave up everything for, the mother of his child, is back.

  And she’s here with me.

  An ordinary woman would’ve gone straight to her kid. She hasn’t seen Lulu in three years; you’d think she would make a beeline from the airport to see her daughter. It’s obvious to me now, more than ever, that Leeyan is not a normal woman.

  Whose job is it to determine what normalcy should be? Maybe it’s normal for Leeyan to be nervous about seeing the daughter she abandoned, or maybe she’s a selfish bitch. It isn’t my place to judge. My loyalty was always to Theo; he was the victim in the story—that was Theo’s story.

  Leeyan was a sworn enemy, a shoot-to-kill enemy. Whenever her name would weasel its way into the conversation, a barrage of insults would fly from my mouth like grenades. She was one of those if-I-ever-see-her-on-the-street people, the ones you spend hours verbally abusing in your head. I had a whole hate speech memorized in case our paths ever crossed, but when I saw her sitting in my booth, there wasn’t a hateful thought in my mind.

  “Gio,” she says softly from the hall.

  “Yeah,” I reply, my voice cracking. I clear my throat and answer again, this time sounding like a man. “Yeah, do you need something?”

  “I just wanted to ask if you need to use the bathroom.”

  “Nah, you go ahead.”

  “Are you sure? Because I want to take a shower.”

  I have no clue how long she’s going to be, and I have to take a piss.

  “G
imme a minute.” I jump out of bed, put on my black Armani sweatpants.

  Leeyan is leaning against the wall just outside the bathroom door, which is right beside my bedroom. She stands at attention when I appear.

  “At ease, soldier.”

  She smiles and goes back to slouching. Her eyes rake over my abs. Having a woman check me out is an everyday occurrence at the club, but not in the hallway of my home.

  “I’ll just be a sec…” I point to the bathroom behind her.

  “Oh shit, sorry.” She moves aside. “That…your…” She points at my body. “Those are, uh, stellar.” She punches my arm. “Good job.”

  “Thanks, I try.” I watch her face turn ten shades of red as I close the bathroom door. Then I turn red. The compliment was hella awkward.

  I’m the kind of guy who believes men and women cannot be friends. The best-case scenario is she gets back together with Theo. Then this would be a lot less complicated.

  I don’t want that.

  Why don’t I want that?

  Because Theo is a fucked-up human when he’s with Leeyan.

  I lift the toilet seat and start to pee. Midstream, Leeyan knocks.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I stop peeing.

  “I hope that wasn’t weird. I felt like it would be weird not to say something about your body, you know?” She’s rambling. “It doesn’t really do me any good to pretend I didn’t notice your abs. So, if we’re being totally normal, acknowledging your body was the normal thing to do, don’t you think?”

  “Uh, I’m peeing.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She laughs. “I’ll wait until you get out.”

  Her feet slap against the concrete tile as she walks away. “Okay, I’m all the way in the living room, sitting on the couch, in case you’re gun shy.”

  Oh lord.

  I finish and decide I need to look somewhat presentable. Bedhead is only cute when you share a bed. I wet my hair then brush my teeth. This isn’t for her; it’s for me.

  Mostly.

  When I finish, I find Leeyan in the kitchen, trying to make coffee.

  “Do you have filters?” She opens the cabinet where the plates and bowls are kept.

  “No, it doesn’t need one.” I step behind her, trapping her between me and the counter. I open the top of the coffee pot to show her the metal filter inside.

  “Oh, cool.”

  We both reach for the coffee container. Our fingers touch like Edward and Bella in the car scene when they both reach for the heater controls. She pulls back then steps to the side.

  “I’ll just stand here and watch.” She leans on the counter.

  I place six scoops into the filter then close the top. She’s already filled it with water. “It’s pretty easy, now you just push this button.”

  I look up and catch her staring at the tattoos on my arm. I flex slightly when I place the coffee back in its spot.

  “Do you, uh, have cream and sugar?”

  “Coconut creamer is in the fridge, but no sugar. I have agave.” I open the cabinet above her head and remove the bottle.

  She smirks at the healthy alternative. “It’ll do.”

  She steps away from the counter, toward the refrigerator as I move toward the door. She sidesteps to the right; I do the same. Then we both step the other way.

  “Is this the coffee dance?” She starts sidestepping to an imaginary beat. She waves her arms like the roof is on fire. The chick is mental.

  In no way do I think her movements are sexy—until her ass brushes my thigh. The tiniest of sparks ricochets through my body. It feels incestuous, wrong, like the time I flirted with my third cousin at a wedding. She kept hugging me, telling me how cute I was. I jerked off to her for a year. Every time I came to the image of her in that puffy pink bridesmaid dress, I felt like I was one step closer to hell.

  “The coffee is going to take ten minutes.” I point to the hall. “The bathroom is free.”

  She winks and makes a clicking sound. “Roger that.”

  She dances her way out of the kitchen, and I adjust my junk.

  What the fuck, dude.

  She’s Theo’s ex.

  She’s Theo’s ex.

  She’s Theo’s ex.

  “Towels?” she yells from the bathroom.

  “In the cabinet on the right.”

  The cabinet squeaks open. “Found them.”

  The door closes, and the water turns on. I exhale.

  Leeyan is a test. If I can keep my dick in check with a woman sleeping on my couch, maybe there’s hope for things staying platonic with Antonia.

  My future depends on it. If I can’t control myself with the most un-fuckable woman in the city, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep things all business with Antonia.

  The bathroom door opens again.

  “Uh, question.”

  I walk around the corner. She’s standing in the doorway with a towel around her naked body. Her bare shoulders are muscular and sexy as hell.

  “Is it cool if I use your shampoo? I just realized I left mine at the hostel.”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind smelling like Swagger.”

  “I’m all about the swag, baby.” She closes the door with a fuckload of swag.

  I bang my forehead on the wall.

  I go to the kitchen and text Rico to let him know I won’t be making it to the gym today.

  Leeyan is in the bathroom for almost an hour. I make a mental note to always pee before she showers. Once I finally get my turn in the bathroom, it feels off. Strands of her hair decorate the shower floor; her toothbrush sits in the slot beside mine. The thought of her standing in my shower, naked, turns me on—not enough to fuck her, but just knowing a naked chick was in my shower, rubbing my body wash on her lady parts gives me full-blown wood. I stroke it out and wonder if Leeyan was doing the same thing in here.

  Oh damn, I like that visual.

  I slap myself in the face.

  Get it together, man!

  The last thing I want or need is to complicate things any further with Theo. Lusting after his ex-girlfriend breaks several bro codes.

  I dress in my least sexy clothes: faded jeans and a baggy orange Giants t-shirt. Leeyan is sitting at my computer wearing jeans with a heather gray crewneck sweatshirt. Her sleeves are pushed up to her elbows.

  “What’s on the agenda today?” I sit on the couch to put on my socks. “I’m pretty sure Theo is home with Lulu.”

  Leeyan covers her face and moans. “I’m scared to see her. What if she hates me?”

  “She’s too young to harbor long-term hate.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugs. “I know Theo hates me, which is fine because I kind of hate him too.”

  As fucked up as their relationship is, they still have Lulu. The kid always comes first.

  “I think you should go see Lulu. If you want, I can talk to Theo.”

  I don’t want to, but I will for the kid.

  “No, the last thing you need is to be in the middle.”

  Too late.

  “I just need a few days to get my head straight, find my own place, grow some balls.” She takes her coffee mug to the sink.

  Leeyan catches my eye from across the apartment. I don’t look away. It feels like we’re having a moment—a teaching moment.

  “Are you going to rinse your mug?”

  She looks down at the sink.

  “Am I supposed to rinse it?”

  “Yes. Then put it in the dishwasher.”

  “What if I want more coffee later?”

  “You get a new mug.”

  “That seems wasteful.”

  “It’s hygienic.”

  “But then you have to wash two mugs.”

  “I don’t. The dishwasher cleans them, and it doesn’t care if there are two mugs or twenty.”

  “How often do you run the dishwasher?” She folds her arms and leans against the counter.

  “Every day.”

  “You have like two things in there.”<
br />
  “It’s early—it’ll fill up throughout the day.”

  “O-kay.”

  I show her where the dishwasher pods are stored and how to empty the coffee grounds.

  “Does the coffee filter go in the dishwasher?”

  “No,” I grunt. “You rinse it with warm, soapy water.” I point at the sponge. “Any other questions?”

  “About cleaning, no.”

  I hope my good cleaning habits rub off on her. That’s the only thing I’ll be rubbing off on her.

  I sit at my desk and open my email. I have two new messages, one is from the Agency with a last-minute booking for tonight. I have to take it since I made no money last night. The other email is from Antonia. It contains links to apartments and information on the work permits and visas.

  Leeyan sits on the sofa with the newspaper. Her daughter, whom she hasn’t seen in three years is a twenty-minute Uber ride away, and she’s reading the comics.

  “Do you have any plans for today?” I ask.

  “I’m working on one.”

  “Reading the comics is part of your plan?”

  She closes the paper and looks back at me.

  "I’m waiting to hear back on a few apartments, and I emailed a contact who might have a job for me.”

  “Cool.” I play it off like I don’t really care.

  “Can I read the comics without judgment now, please?”

  “No judgment here.”

  She watches me a few seconds before opening the paper.

  Nice to know she has a plan. I need one too. An exit plan because there is no way this ends well.

  I click on the link to start my visa application.

  Chapter Seven

  I arrive at a warehouse in the Dogpatch. It’s a former blue-collar area with million-dollar homes on one side of Third Street and warehouses on the other. I park in the lot along with half a dozen Audis and Jettas. I fit right in.

  Music pumps from inside the building; it sounds like a rave. If there were more cars in the lot, it’d feel like a rave. I check the text from Rico to make sure this is the place. The address is correct. He didn’t give any details about the job, just said private party, which usually means an hour of dancing and I’m out. I’m not up for more. I spent most of the day stress eating with Leeyan.