Blindsided (15 page)

This is where I get to create a giant mess.

It’s fitting, really, given my emotional state. I fight it. I swallow it back and pretend I’m okay, but only because I have to. If I could let it all flow and have the mother of all cries, I’d be really okay.

The thought that my dream is within touching distance but my fingers will never even skim it is heartbreaking.

But, like Quinn said, I have to remember who believed in me. Who imagined I could be someone when they thought I was no one. He’s the person. He took a risk on the little sixteen-year-old, and when, year after year, my designs got noticed, he’s the one who took a risk on the kid with a dream.

He’s the one who got me a line, a show, a place in the spotlight. He’s the one who encouraged me to draw until my fingers bled and think until my brain hurt. He’s the one who taught me to add details until my eyes sting with the concentration and my body shuts down with the pressure.

He’s the one who taught me to believe.

He taught me to believe in the little things. And maybe in my life, I’m so busy looking at the bigger picture that I’ve overlooked the tiny details.

But the tiny details—they’re all Corey. And, to be honest, I don’t want to think of all the little things. I don’t want to focus on the way his eyes sparkle whenever they meet mine. I don’t want think about the curvature of his lips when he smirks or the smoothness of his fingertips ghosting over my skin. I don’t want to think about the dip in his cheek—the one I can’t decide whether it’s a real dimple or just a wannabe. I don’t want to think about anything past playing him at his own game because it’s too easy to get lost in a game.

It’s so easy to forget the rules. It’s so easy for the rules of the game to bend, to distort, to become another reality altogether. It’s so easy to twist and contort your expectations with those rules.

It’s so, so easy to lose, even when you think you’re winning.

I could give him my body. I could let him peel my clothes from my body and take me to a crazy level of this Earth I might not have experienced yet. I want to. I’ll freely admit that. I want to fuck Corey. I do.

But, as my dream proves, you can want something and not get it. And that’s okay. Because being denied something you want will only make you work harder, make you more determined.

I drop the pins on the floor. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, of course.

Denying him is why he’s so fucking hung up on getting me into his bed. It’s why he’s so goddamn determined to slip inside me and keep up with everything he’s ever promised me.

Because I say no.

He wants me, and I refuse him.

I thought—naïvely—that the way to get him to leave me alone was by denying him. That, eventually, he’d listen to my protestations and give up.

I was wrong. Fuck, was I wrong.

The way to get him to leave me alone is to give him the very thing he wants, even if it defies my beliefs.

I’m going to have to sleep with Corey Jackson.

And soon.

Great-Aunt Ada walks into the room wearing a giant fruit hat.

No, that isn’t the opening line to a joke. It’s the absolute truth.

I blink at her. “What on Earth is that on your head?”

“On my bed? There’s nothing on my bed, dear.” She stops in front of the mirror on the wall and adjusts the monstrosity.

“Head!” I shout. “What is that on your head?”

“No need to shout.” She meets my eyes through the mirror. “It’s my new birthday hat. What do you think?”

I think her age has caught up with her and she’s gone batshit crazy. “I, er… It isn’t your birthday for another month.”

“I had to try it on.”

“Naturally.” I ignore the knock on the front door. “Do you have to keep it?”

Ada turns to me. “What’s wrong with it?”

I blink at her again. Jesus. Does she really not see the problem with wearing a
giant fucking fruit hat?
“Can you, er, ask me what’s right with it instead?”

“Are you sassing me, Lele?”

“No. Just asking.”

She narrows her eyes as there’s another knock.

“I’ll get it, shall I?” Mom yells.

“Yeah. Thanks, Mom,” I call back, still staring at the old woman in front of me. “I just don’t see how it’ll go with your wardrobe.”

“Oh, Grace took me shopping today. I have the most fabulous yellow dress to wear with it.”

“I’m sure you— Oh my God, my eyes!” I snap my eyes shut and cover them with my hands. Fuck. No. That dress should not exist. The frills, the drop hem… Good God. “Please put it away and never show me it again.”

“You have no taste,” she scoffs. “Corey! Do you like my new dress?”

Pause. “It’s wonderful, Ada. The hat, too.”

I drop my hands and stare at him. “Are you serious? You’re encouraging this?”

Ada faces me, still clasping the dress.

I cover my eyes again. “Please. Put it away.”

“Grace knows better than you.”

“I’ve dressed her for the last three years!” I stare at Mom in disbelief. “How could you let her buy that?”

“Since when have you ever denied your aunt anything and been successful?” Mom retorts, raising her eyebrows. “Precisely.”

“Aunt Ada, please!” I implore, waving my hands at her. I’ve honestly never seen such a hideous item in my life. I hope they don’t expect me to go out in public with her wearing it. Mustard yellow and frills are not a stunning combination.

She huffs and folds the dress, putting it back into the bag. “A fashion major with no taste. Well, I never.”

“You’re a fashion major?” Corey asks, looking at me.

Thank you, Ada.
The old woman looks at me with wide eyes. Something that is, thankfully, missed by Corey.

“Yep.” I stand up and avoid my aunt’s gaze, lest I send her six feet under. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I just never pictured you drawing dresses and shit.”

Drawing dresses and shit. Oh. My heart hurts.

“Good thing I don’t, then, huh?” I raise my eyebrows. “Why are you here?”

“Uh…” He looks around at my mom and aunt.

Mom smiles. Wide. Then pours a glass of wine and settles in at the kitchen island.

Corey’s eyes flit between her and Aunt Ada, who is staring at us like she’s never seen a couple of twenty-somethings talking before. I can feel the intensity of my family’s gaze, and Corey doesn’t look comfortable at all.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, you two!” I grab Corey’s arm and tug him after me. Then I lead him through the kitchen and into the backyard, and no, I am totally not focusing on the firmness of his biceps against my fingers.

Not. At. All.

Okay, maybe a little…

“What are you doing here? Wait.” I clap my hand over my mouth. “That’s rude. I’m sorry. Let’s try again. Hi. What’s up?”

Corey’s lips twitch up to the side, and the smile adds a little glimmer to his eyes. “Hi.” He pushes some hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

Stepping forward, he leans in, his lips a breath away from mine. My eyes flutter shut, and then…

“Why is your aunt pressed against the kitchen window?”

I push his hand away from my face and spin on the balls of my feet. Ada jerks out of the way of the window, but not quick enough.

“Fuck my life!” Once again, I grab Corey, this time by the front of his shirt, and pull him around the side of the house where there are no windows.

He laughs. “Number-one reason I live alone.”

“No, you live alone so your mom doesn’t question the endless stream of girls coming in and out of your room.”

“Or so she doesn’t question the amount of time I spend in there.”

“Oh, how romantic of you.”

“I try. Now, third time’s a charm.” The words are a murmur falling from his lips, and he steps forward, cupping my chin. His thumb is rough as he traces it along my jawline. Dipping his head, he softly touches his lips to mine, just the barest brush. “Hi.”

I smile. “Hi.”

“Good day?”

“Mhmm. You?”

“Hard. It’s better now that I’ve seen you.”

“Of course it is. I’m wonderful.”

I grin, and he laughs and rests his forehead against mine. “There’s no shortage of self-confidence here, is there?”

“Says Mr. Certain.”

“Darlin’, when you look like I do, there’s no need to be uncertain about anything.”

“I like it when you call me darlin’. It’s very cowboy of you.”

“Watch out. One day, I might turn up with a cowboy hat and boots and charm my way inside your pants.”

“It would be around ninety percent more successful than your current arrogance,” I admit. “I love a good cowboy novel.”

“What do books have to do with me wearing cowboy boots?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying, I like cowboys, okay?” I put my hands on my hips.

“So you like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You call me cowboy.”

“It was originally supposed to be derogatory.”

“Then what happened?”

“It kind of…stuck.” I shrug. “So now you’re cowboy to me. Is that all right?”

He pulls my hands from my hips and tugs my body flush against his. “All right by me.”

“Great. Now, remind me what you’re doing here.”

“I never said.” His lips brush along my jaw.

“Now would be a good time. Corey!” I wriggle in his hold when he kisses my neck. I hate it when he does that, because last time, I really,
really
liked it. “What do you want?”

“You. In my bed. Naked. Under me.”

“Stop it.” I wriggle again when he swirls his tongue in the dip of my collarbone and digs his fingers into my hips. Then, oh, he kisses my up to my pulse point and sucks lightly, his tongue caressing my skin. My clit aches. “Fucking hell! Corey!”

He drops his head against my shoulder and chuckles quietly. “I’m not even sorry.”

“You will be if you don’t tell me why you’re here.”

“Okay, okay.” He pulls back. Not without one last kiss to my neck though. Obviously. “Our preseason game is at home tomorrow.”

“Yes. At one o’clock. Against the Giants. Where are you going with this?”

“It’s really hot when you go all football fan on me.”

I roll my eyes. “Corey. Focus. My eyes are up here.” I snap my fingers in front of my nose and he jerks his eyes up from my tits.

“Sorry. Kind of,” he adds, glancing back down again.

I reach between us and tug my shirt up so it covers my cleavage completely.

“Good call,” he mutters, meeting my eyes. “And I got you tickets.”

“Ticket
s
? There’s only one of me. My ass isn’t big enough that it needs two seats.”

He laughs. “No. I thought maybe you’d want to take…someone.”

I lick my lips and grin. “Go on. Say his name. It won’t hurt you.”

“Cole,” he grinds out. “I thought you might want to come watch the game with Cole.”

Is it bad that I’m hovering in delight right now? Oh, God, it is. So bad. So, so bad.

“It’s kind of short notice. I’ll have to call him,” I say dismissively. “I don’t know if we can.”

“Fuck ‘we,’” Corey half growls, forcing me to look at him. “You’re gonna be there whether he is or not. I couldn’t give a shit about the pretty boy. I only got him a ticket to be fuckin’ considerate.”

“God, it’s hilarious when you get jealous,” I tease him.

“I’m not fuckin’ jealous!”

“You’re cussing. You so are.”

“Leah, I swear to fuck, keep it up and I’m gonna kiss that sass right out of you.”

“Tempting.” I purse my lips. “But okay. I’ll stop. I’ll call Cole and see if he’s free for a football date.”

“What?” Corey’s eyes blaze.

“Wait—I think that came out wrong…”

I smile as he pushes his mouth onto mine. It soon drops, though, because damn. His mouth is on fire, every ounce of the jealousy I just teased him about pouring into my body and consuming me. Corey’s lips are hot and unrelenting, and the grip his fingers have on my hips is almost possessive, as if they’re telling me who I belong to.