Page 9 of Spin The Bottle
He laughs. “As I said. Good luck.”
I came from a family of brothers. Two older brothers who definitely didn’t watch rom-coms. I have no idea how to deal with crying girls. I pick up another handful of popcorn and stuff it in my mouth when the door rings. Grayson glances at me, and I take that as my cue.
I head towards the door, reach for the door handle and pull it open. My eyebrows lift when I see the same girl from class last week. Her eyes round at the sight of me, and I don’t know what that means exactly. I smile at her, waiting for her to smile back, but she doesn’t. She narrows her eyes at me a little. Huh. Not the reaction I’m used to.
“Leila.” I note the way her eyes widen at the sound of her name coming from my mouth. “You stalking me?” I joke.
She lets out a breath. “Rosie invited me over.”
I find it funny how this girl seems unaffected by me. It’s strange. I like it. I lick my bottom lip to hide the grin I’m sporting. She acts like she doesn’t know who I am, but I know better. I know it’s bullshit. Everyone around here knows who I am.
Not only that, but I’ve got something on this girl. Rosie has let slip many times how obsessed with basketball Leila is. How she comes to all of my games, she never misses one, apparently.
She blinks, propping a hand on her hip. “Are you going to let me in or just stand guard at the door?”
A smile spreads across my face, turning into a laugh. “Are you that eager to come inside?” I tease her, loving how her warm complexion brightens, red coating her cheeks, even if her eyes burn with anger. It’s still cute as shit.
“If this is some little game you play, I’m not interested.”
Damn. She seems pissed. “Well, shit.” I fix my hat nervously. “This isn’t the exact reaction I’m used to.”
She shrugs. “Just not a fan of yours,” she says.
“Really?” A smirk paints my lips. “According to your friend, you come to all of my games.”
She closes her eyes, cursing under her breath. When she opens her eyes again, the regained fire is back in her eyes. “Don’t get an ego boost,” she says. “I don’t come for you.”
I laugh, letting out a low whistle. “Consider my ego boosted.” I shoot her a wink. “The more you talk, the more I can see how obsessed you are with me.”
There’s no reason I should let this one girl’s opinion of me affect me. So, she doesn’t like me; big fucking deal. A lot of people don’t like me. It shouldn’t hurt. It doesn’t.
She scoffs. It’s the closest I’m getting to a laugh from her. “I just happen to like basketball; it has nothing to do with you.”
I hum, crossing my arms. At least she likes basketball. My kind of girl. “That’s too bad.” I smirk, continuing to tease her. “I’d love to look up at the bleachers, seeing you in a cute little outfit and some pom-poms, screaming my name.”
I see her cheeks flush and I resist the urge to laugh. She already doesn’t like me. I shouldn’t be giving her more incentive. She blinks, squaring her shoulders. “That will never happen.”
I shrug, but before I can say anything else, Rosie appears at my side. “Oh hey,” she says. “You came.”
I tut. “And here I thought you were here for me,” I joke, placing a hand on my chest, feigning hurt.
“What are you guys doing?” Rosie asks.
I turn my head to look down at her. She’s so tiny, it hurts my neck. “Having the time of my life talking to your friend here.” I smile down at her, but she doesn’t look convinced, turning to Leila for confirmation.
“He’s killing my will to live,” she says dryly.
The more she talks, the more I want to rally with her. I want to get to know her. I don’t know why she doesn’t seem to like me, don’t really care. Something about her intrigues me.
Rosie laughs, steps back inside the house and to the living room. I step inside, holding out my hand, allowing Leila to enter. She walks past me, her body brushing against mine as she walks in front of me. My lips twitch when she looks behind her shoulders, narrowing her eyes when I trail behind her.
“Did you get your stuff?” Rosie asks once they’re in the living room.
“Yes,” Leila says, sitting beside Rosie, fanning her long brown hair behind her back. “She wasn’t lying. My plants were all dead.”
“How long did you leave them?” Rosie asks her.
She shrugs. “A week?” Her face crinkles up with a wince. “I just couldn’t handle her anymore.”
