Page 40 of Wrong Pucking Player

“I don’t have a girlfriend, by the way,” he says with a wink. He then takes a single step forward, the move landing him right in front of me before he leans in to whisper in my right ear.

“Girls aren’t my type of seasoning.”

Oh.

Oh…

OH…

Armani’s gay?

Then why is he flirting with me?

Was he flirting?

Fucking hell, I’m just a horny bitch!

This is Wyatt’s fault.

I’m ready to text the man and blame my embarrassment on his actions from yesterday, but the ‘click’ sound followed by a loud creak of a door opening draws my attention to my right to see my door is now open.

And this man holds the key to my apartment.

“What in heaven’s name?” I begin and stare at the man in disbelief. “How the hell do you have a key to my place?” I’m rather baffled, but I’m not necessarily mad. It’s weird to admit because I should be freaking the fuck out with this obvious red flag man, with all his alluring masculinity, having a copy of my house key at his disposal.

He could walk into my place at any time of the day.

Or night…

Slip beneath my sheets.

Glide those large, calloused hands along my body…

Fuck me until the whole building hears me scream his na—

Why am I so horny right now?!

I have to be possessed by evil government housing spirits who never got laid because my behavior is ridiculous.

“You gave it to me,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone while casually walking into my place as if he owns it.

I follow, my eyes already scanning the interior place that I abandoned five-plus years ago.

It looks as though I never left…

I need a moment to take it in.

The one bedroom used to be my little paradise when I was sixteen to twenty. It’s a lot bigger than the average new builds they make now, filled with plenty of light from the windows and balcony. The abundance of light was what encouraged me to get a bunch of plants to decorate the place. Plants that were still alive and thriving, just like I’d left them.

Taking it all in, matched with the cleanliness of the place, it looks as if I never left it when I did. I almost feel a cloak of guilt weighing upon my shoulders for leaving this place behind.

Because I was in a bad place mentally. In a dark space that didn’t want to acknowledge the sun, the greenery, or that living here could be a blessing until I was financially secure to be someone better.

The resentment I felt toward this place always made me feel a sense of anger instead of gratitude. That I was poor and couldn’t even afford to get a bachelor’s in my name. That and all the bullying and taunting I got from so many around me left me to get away from it all and do what so many told me I couldn’t.

Go to school.

Get a degree.

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