Page 13 of Be Mine, Cruel Valentines

“Fuck, I look good.”

Some might call it conceited, but I knew what I was working with. My mother’s African American blood mixed with my father’s German blood. I had nice brown skin with startling green eyes. I was every girl’s wet dream. And sometimes, guys’.

I slipped out of my bedroom and headed downstairs, only to find Foxyn going to town on the punching bag in the living room. Blow after blow, the chains rattled. I opened my mouth to point out he would bust a hole in the bag again if he didn’t calm down, but it was too late. A trickle of sand seeped onto the floor, making a small pile.

“Need to fill that thing with cement,” I said as I walked further into the room.

The house had an open concept. Leyton sat at the breakfast nook, a textbook in hand and two more open on the table. Food was on the stove. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t had anything since my after-practice protein shake.

I could get a quick bite. Sabrina could wait a bit. I doubt she’d go anywhere.

The fresh empanadas smelled divine. I checked out the skillet on the stove and groaned. Spanish paella. Leyton hadn’t made it in months. Now I didn’t want to go to the bar. If there weren’t a promise of pussy I’d stay home and pig out.

“Damn, Leyton. You could lock a man down with these skills.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He went off on me in Spanish. Pretty sure he called me a dumb ass or something like that.

“I’m just saying you never bring a boyfriend home. I worry about your dick.”

Leyton didn’t even look up from his textbook. “Don’t. The thought of you thinking about my dick makes my balls crawl back up inside of me.”

I sputtered out a laugh and popped the rest of the empanada into my mouth.

“And we don’t bringanyoneback here. Those are the rules.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Still, you don’t go out, and if you keep fucking those books, you’re going to get paper cuts on your dick.” I shuddered at the thought.

“Cabrón. Todo lo que haces es pensar con tu polla.” Leyton shook his head and turned the page in his book. “Polla para cerebros.”

“I know you said something about my dick.” I smirked and grabbed my crotch. “I know it’s magnificent. Want to see it so you have something to jerk off to later?”

Leyton flipped me off. “Show it, and I will give Foxyn the go-ahead to replace his sandbag with your face.”

Speaking of Foxyn, he was still going at the bag, although it was quickly becoming unusable. He hit it once more before finally stepping away and plopping down on the couch.

“What the hell is your problem?” I asked.

Foxyn flipped me off as he adjusted his shorts.

“He’s angry because there’s a current rumor going around that he’s got chlamydia,” Leyton supplied.

“Fuck, man. You got the clap?” I raised my hands and pressed my fingers into a cross, warding off the bad juju.

“Fuck you, dumb ass. I don’t have shit. I get checked regularly, and I don’t fuck without a condom.”

“Why? It feels great.” My head tilted as both of them glared at me. “I know. I know. I’m careful. I don’t go raw often. Just sometimes, I need that feeling.”

“I’d kill you if I didn’t love you,” Leyton said.

I shrugged. I knew he would. Shit, they both probably would.

“Don’t risk what we’ve built so far,” Leyton warned.

I nodded and turned back to Foxyn. “So, about the clap.”

He growled at me, and I smothered the laughter that threatened to bubble out of me. “Who started the rumor?”

Leyton sighed and placed his textbook down. He adjusted the glasses on his face before addressing us. “That is where things get confusing. It came out of nowhere.”

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