Page 77 of Spin The Bottle
Her frown when I pull back amuses me. “Not so fast,” I say, smoothing my hands over her bare hips, feeling her soft skin under my fingertips. “You weren’t going to tell me it was your birthday?”
She lets out a sigh, unwrapping her arms from around me. “Didn’t think it was necessary.”
My brows furrow. “You didn’t think I needed to know that today was your birthday?”
“No.”
Ouch. My stomach drops, feeling the pain from her words. It’s clear that she’s not where I am at all. How am I supposed to tell her I want more when she clearly just wants sex from me? “Why not?”
She sighs, taking a step away from me. My hands twitch, wanting her back. “Because I don’t really care for it.”
“Why?” I ask her, crossing my arms.
Her shoulders lift in a non-committal shrug, playing with the hem of her pajama top. “It was different when I was growing up. My dad would go all out, you know? Plan a huge surprise when I woke up, balloons, a cake, the whole joint. But now… it just seems useless.”
Hearing about her birthday celebrations when she was a kid makes me happy that she had that, that she had love and fun in her life. It might make me a dick but it makes me a little jealous and sad for younger me. Growing up, I didn’t even know when it was my birthday because no one cared. “It’s not useless. It’s the day you were born. Is that why you’re upset?” I ask her, watching her pull her bottom lip between her teeth. “Because you won’t be able to spend your birthday with your family?”
Her nose scrunches. “A little,” she admits. “But I also feel like it’s a huge relief I’m not home for my birthday.”
“Why?”
She sighs, closing her eyes. “Because my mom hates me.”
I shake my head. Who the hell could hate her? “I’m sure that’s not true.”
She glances at me, dropping her eyes to the ground a second later. “It is. She hates my body. Hates that I don’t look like her or my sister,” she says, her voice breaking my goddamn heart. She sounds so small, so sad. Fuck, I just want to hold her and tell her that her mother doesn’t deserve to look at her if she can’t see how beautiful she is. Drop dead fucking gorgeous.
“You’re not serious.” The thought of someone as close to Leila as her mother telling her something like that shatters me. I see how self-conscious she is whenever we sleep together, I can sense how she gets stuck in her head sometimes, how she pulls on her top whenever it lifts, or how she prefers the dark. “Is that why you don’t take your top off?” Her eyes widen when the question comes out of my mouth. “Because of your mother’s comments?”
She shakes her head, her throat bobbing when she swallows. “That’s different. It’s got nothing to do with her.”
“Then why?” I ask her, approaching where she’s standing. “Do you not trust me?” I’ve told this girl more than I’ve ever told anyone, including Grayson. Does it hurt that she doesn’t feel comfortable to return the favor? Yeah, it hurts like a bitch.
“It’s complicated,” she says.
“Then uncomplicate it for me.” She shakes her head which makes me a little annoyed. “I just want to know you, Leila. I’ve told you all about my family, I have nothing to hide from you. I just want you to let me in.”
She drops onto the chair with a sigh, burying her head in her hands. “I had a boyfriend in high school.” I hate him already. “His name was Jake. He was a football player, and just like every other girl, I was interested in him. He was a quarterback, popular, hot as hell.”
I scoff. “Not as hot as me.” She glares at me, or she tries to, her lips giving her away with the small smirk on them. “Continue,” I tell her, leaning against the couch.
“Obviously every girl was into him, and then one day, out of nowhere, he noticed me. He talked to me, flirted with me, and then asked for my number.” I can’t help but think it sounds familiar to how we started. I hate that. I hate the thought of her associating me with him, with whatever he did to make her hide a part of herself.
“He asked me out but told me it had to be in secret because the other guys would give him shit for dating someone that looked like me.” My fists curl up by my sides, wanting to find this asshole and punch him. “I was fine with it. I knew I didn’t look like the other girls. And then we started dating,” she continues, glancing up at me. “He was my first,” she explains. I can see the pain on her face and I’m not sure if I even want to listen to the rest of it. It’s hurting me just knowing she was hurt.
“He told me to keep my top on because it wasn’t necessary to see any of that,” she says, using air quotes. I want to kill him. “I felt horrible, but I agreed. I didn’t like that part of myself… I still don’t.” she mumbles that last part so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “And then once he finished, he left, saying he had practice.”
“Please tell me that’s it,” I plead her. “Please tell me he didn’t do anything else.”
She turns away from me, dropping her eyes to her lap. “When I went back to school, he had exposed all of our messages,” she tells me. “It turns out he didn’t like me like I had thought, it was a bet between his friends.” She laughs, bitterly. I watch as a tear falls onto her lap and she wipes it away quickly, shaking her head. “He said to me ‘I can’t believe you thought I actually liked you.’ He slept with me as a joke.”
“You’re fucking with me.” My blood pressure rises with every word that comes out of her mouth. “Tell me you’re joking.”
She shakes her head, shattering my heart into pieces. “Iwas the joke. They were betting on who can get the fat girl to think they like her.” The look on her face kills me. “I lost all of my friends. No one wanted to be around me, except for Rosie. I was so embarrassed.” She looks up at me with glassy eyes, brimming with tears. “So, when I got to college, I decided to flip the switch,” she tells me. “I knew I wasn’t the relationship girl. I knew guys wouldn’t want to be with me.” She wipes her face, squaring her shoulders. “So,Iapproached guys.Imade the first move, and I kept the rules the same. Only one-night stands, always from behind so I wouldn’t look at them, in private and I’d never see them again.”
Yeah, I remember her no repeat rule very clearly. “I got what I wanted, and I didn’t get attached,” she says with a sigh. “It was working until…”
“Until me,” I finish for her.
