Page 32 of Leah

How dare he look at me like this. Like he was still my lover. Like he had permission to undress me before him and fuck me with his eyes while seated next to his model giraffe girlfriend with the elephant killing dad.

And how dare I want him to.

I needed air.

I excused myself, despite nobody batting me an eye besides Carter. I escaped to the balcony in the study room and took in a deep breath. Wrapping my arms around my body, I stared outinto the empty streets. None of these people on this block knew a couple rock stars were kicking back in this very house.

Imagine the mayhem if they did.

I gripped the banister of the balcony and focused on calming myself down. My body was jittery and out of sorts, and my spine tingled as I felt his presence behind me.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect this. It was against Melanie’s wishes to be alone with him, but I had to do it. Part of me had hoped he’d seek me out, and I knew it was best to get whatever tension there was between us out of the way in privacy.

“Three years did you well,” he suddenly said, breaking the silence.

My heart skipped a beat at hearing his voice.

I turned around slowly and watched Carter step out into the balcony. Standing still, he glanced at me from top to bottom and remarked softly, “You’re fucking beautiful, Leah.”

I didn’t respond.

I chewed the inside of my lip instead, wondering where that compliment came from. His eyes glanced down at my mouth, and something stirred there in their depths.

“What’s the matter?” he then asked with a cocky smile. “You look a little speechless. Are you fan-girling over me?”

I frowned, not at all impressed by his humour. “You glared at me in there, barely said a word to me, and now you’re telling me I’m beautiful.”

“I was shocked.”

“Shocked?”

“Yeah, completely shocked.”

“By what?”

“By you. I felt my insides pinching just staring at you for the first time in three miserable years.”

My cheeks reddened, and he knew it too, glimpsing about my face with a ghost of a smile.

“Your insides were pinching?” I sceptically asked, suppressing a smile.

He moved closer to me, and he watched as my eyes widened. I didn’t want him near me, and despite knowing this, he kept moving.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged, softly. “They were pinching.”

“How poetic.”

He smirked. “I’m a singer. Poetry is in my veins, Angel.”

Angel.

I stiffened, and for a fleeting second, he appeared regretful using that name. It was almost like we’d been thrown back into the past. It was a sad thought. As if realizing he’d overstepped his boundaries, he turned to the balcony and stared out into the night, guzzling down some more of his beer. All the while I watched him, taking in the subtle differences, wondering why it felt like I was staring at him for the first time.

“You never got back to me,” he then remarked absently, keeping his emotions hidden.

I fidgeted. “I know.”

“I think I sent you four letters in one year, and I got nothing every time.”

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