Page 22 of Rebound

Chapter 14

Layla

I’m steaming by the time I get outside and am hit in the face by the summer heat. I see an expensive car parked in front and go stand by the passenger door. The idiot parked in a no-parking zone and has a ticket on his windshield. He swipes it, and I wait for him to unlock the door. He comes to my side, unlocking and opening the door for me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Not from his ass anyway.

I get in and angrily put on my seatbelt while he starts the car and pulls away from the curb. He puts on talk radio, and it’s a stupid show about baseball. I cross my arms and look out the window without speaking.

It takes us thirty minutes until he parks his car in his building’s garage. He gestures for me to go in the elevator, and the smell of his cologne reaches my nose. It’s not overpowering. It smells good, and I almost wish I wasn’t here with him but with my boyfriend and that I could put my face in his chest and inhale. That thought angers me because that’s what I should be doing, not wasting my time with him. Except I don’t have a boyfriend.

If he hadn’t let me inside his apartment ahead of him, I would have slammed the door behind me.

“Let me go find those jerseys,” he says. “Feel free to look in the fridge and freezer and get whatever you want.” He walks away before I can tell him off. I yank his fridge open, and there’s nothing in there that I want. It’s all healthy stuff. The freezer is not much better. There’s not even so much as an ice cream sandwich.

Annoyed, I wash red grapes and walk through the house to find him. He’s in a room he has set up as an office and looking through a box.

“What the hell are you up to?” I ask, getting straight to the point.

“I’m looking for jerseys for your family,” he says as if that’s the most normal thing in the world. “What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Whorekowski. Why are you showing up at my house, bringing me food, and pretending to be nice to me?”

“I’m not pretending. I’ve never had a problem with you. You’re the one who’s always judged me,” he says. He’s not wrong. I do judge him. He’s a man whore who can’t keep it in his pants, but he’s never been nice to me either. I judge all men like him.

“I’m never going to sleep with you,” I tell him again. “If you’ve already been through all the women in New York, you better look elsewhere. Go to Connecticut or New Jersey.”

“Jesus, all you think about is sex. Go take a cold shower or something.” I throw a grape at him. He opens his mouth and catches it without missing a beat. “Why do we have to be enemies? We have friends in common and Jazzy likes you,” he throws in. “We’re in the same social circle, so can we be civil?”

“I like Jasmine too. It’s her father I have a problem with. Why don’t you correct my family for assuming you’remy—” I gesture at him before croaking out, “boyfriend. God, that makes me want to puke.”

He cackles and shakes his head as if I didn’t just insult him. “What good would that have done? They don’t listen when you say it.”

“You’re impossible,” I tell him. “You tell them the truth when we get back. I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t see me that way. Got it?”

“Um, you can’t dictate to me how I see you,” is all he says. “Okay, I found some jerseys. I’ll just bring a bunch back.” He puts them on the desk and walks out of the room. When he doesn’t come back, I follow after him.

He’s on his phone, scrolling. Once he’s done, he hands me the phone and says, “Pick what you want, unless you want to go out.” It’s from a local restaurant that’s known for its decadent desserts. I’d be a fool to say no and an even bigger fool to go out in public with him. The guy can’t take two steps without getting his picture taken.

To piss him off, I pick one of each dessert and hand him back the phone. He completes the order without saying a word and puts the phone down.

“Make yourself at home. I’m gonna go take a shower,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing for me to be in his apartment while he showers. A vision of him naked flashes through my mind, and I wonder what he looks like underneath his clothes, but I quickly chase the thought away.

“Um, excuse me, but I’m not done talking. What are you up to? I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” I narrow my eyes at him.

“I’m really sweaty. Come into the bathroom with me and we can continue to talk.” The words come out matter-of-fact and not flirtatious. I widen my eyes in shock at him.

“It will be a cold day in hell before I go into the bathroom with you,” I warn.

“You have a real attitude problem. Has anyone ever told you that? Maybe that dessert will put you in a better mood. Obviously, you’re one of those people who gets hangry.” He walks away without another word.

Insufferable idiot. Since he’s brought me here and has refused to hear anything I’m saying, I decide I’m going to be nosey and look around the apartment.

There’s a big picture of when he was MVP during their last finals win. He’s holding the trophy and has a happy look on his face. For once, he doesn’t look like a jerk. He looks kind of handsome with his short blond hair and green eyes. He even has a nice chin.

After looking around the living room, I tiptoe down the hall. There are pictures of Jasmine all over the wall. Most of them are candid shots, but there’s one that’s clearly a photoshoot of her first birthday. She’s in all pink and a white tutu. She’s holding a big number one and grinning sweetly for the camera.

The door to his bedroom is open, so I go inside. I can hear the water running in the bathroom while I look around. He has a big, four-poster bed. There’s a small pink pillow and matching blanket on his bed, and I wonder if Jasmine ends up sleeping in here most nights. I know she has a room that any little girl would love, but I have also noticed that Wakowski doesn’t like to be away from his daughter.

When I found out he had fathered a child with some random fangirl, it proved everything I had thought of him. He was a whore who slept with any and everybody and fathered a child in the process. I remember my jaw dropping when he showed up at Jeannie and Aiden’s townhouse one Sunday for brunch with her strapped to his chest. He had a big pink diaper bag slungacross his shoulder and a pink stuffed pig under his arm. He was attentive throughout brunch. He fed her, excused himself to change her diaper, and only let Coach and Jeannie hold her. I remember dying to hold the baby, and I got my chance when he went outside to talk on the phone. As soon as he was out of sight, I snatched Jasmine from Jeannie and cradled her. He was only gone a few minutes, and when he came back in, he found me rocking her in my arms while she looked at me in awe. She was one of the most beautiful babies I’d ever seen, despite looking so much like Seth. I expected him to take her from me and to tell me not to touch her again, but he didn’t. He walked away and came back with a bottle. He handed it to me, put a bib on her, and let me feed her.

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