Page 133 of Crazy for this Girl

I know that high school boys fucked the shit out of her with their heavy gazes. Some of them probably went home and stroked their dicks later. I’d even go as far as her being a topic in the boys’ locker room.

I was a fucking football player, for God's sake, and it was like a run of a mill gossip ring. I learned shit about people I didn’t want to know, and saw teenage boys bitch about ex’s dumping them.

“No,” Laynee replies with a shake of her head. “I hid in the bathroom for my first two hours, hoping people would forget.”

Tanner pushes his cheek out with his tongue, and the short teether of my patience. “You were a goody-two-shoes, weren’t you? The sweet, innocent kind of girl that every bad boy secretly wanted to bang.”

“She was far from harmless,” I pipe in because if she answers that question, I’m going to flip the fuck out almost two decades too late. “She gave me some of the cookies her mother made and put too much salt in and claimed her dad made them. I shriveled up and almost died.”

Laynee busts out laughing and Tanner, fuck him, doesn’t get it.

“The best,” she says through inhales of air. “Aw, man, you were just so easy.”

“She also put Vaseline on the bottom of my shoes one year. Fell right on my ass the moment I stood up and began walking on the hardwood floors.”

She picks up her wine glass. “I read that in one of your Cosmos.”

I look at Tanner. “She’s the devil.”

“Sooo”—Tanner points an index finger at me, then to Laynee, before wiggling it back and forth between us—“you two never dated?”

Laynee is the first to respond, issuing out a no as if it was some felony charge she didn’t want to catch. My cousin lifts a knowing brow, and I hate that I know him and looked out for him once upon a time.

“Interesting.” Tanner looks over at me. “I remember my cousin talking a lot about you.” He’s trying to embarrass me, doing a horrible job at it, and if he keeps this shit up, I’m going to call all his bullshit out too. Like the time he shit his pants when he got tackled, hard, by a linebacker in high school.

“I guess I would,” I reply coolly. “She was my best friend.”

“I never spoke about my friends as much as you did the famous Laynee.”

“Then I guess I was pretty bomb,” Laynee adds in, glancing over at me for a second to give me a smile. “Glad to know you accepted and admitted to it.”

“You never would’ve been my friend if you weren’t,” I counter, dapping the corner of my mouth with my cloth napkin. “Your musical taste needed some work, but overall, hence the best friend title.”

“What did you listen to back then, Laynee?” Tanner asks, sliding his flirty gaze back her way.

“Yellowcard,” she begins. “Taking Back Sunday…N*SYNC was always a favorite.”

“You’re telling me you got Cal to listen to N*SYNC or any other mainstream musician?” Tanner proclaims with a look of teasing disbelief. “He used to make fun of MTV all the time.”

“Nah, cousin, that was you I was dogging when you tried to grow facial hair and looked like Fred Durst.”

Laynee perks a brow. “Before or after his so-called rap career?”

“Before, thank fuck,” I reply. I would’ve had to put the kid out of his misery early on in life.

Laynee chuckles as she finishes off her dessert of Pink Lemonade Torte, sliding the polished silver fork between her red, plush lips. My cock stirs, begging me to hurry up and make her want us again.

Just envisioning her mouth wrapped around my length has my hand clenching onto my own silverware harder. It has my blood pumping furiously through my head—both heads—as she eats her pastry without one fuck given in the world.

This woman has no idea what she does to me and the rest of the male population.

Tanner would fuck her without hesitation. We already know my stance on the matter, and I’d kill my own blood relative without a second thought over it.

This shit is borderline obsessive, crazy, and I believe I have more problems than what I was professionally diagnosed with at this point.

Laynee stabs the last bite of her dessert, ready to end my excruciating torment of watching her lips do anything, when she surprises me and flips the fork handle around to hand it over to me. “Try it.”

I shake my head. “Go ahead, you look as if you were enjoying it.”

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