“I don’t fuck groupies, Megan.”
She flinches at my hard voice and I swear under my breath. “I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath.
“Don’t tell me Sam thinks you sleep your way through the line of groupies at your door.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug.
I don’t know where your dick has been.
“She pissed you off,” Meg comments soberly, and she’s right.
She fucking pissed me off.
“She has such a fucking stick up her ass.” I can’t sit still any more, so I start stalking around her kitchen. “We had a good week, and she was loosening up, and I enjoyed being with her. She’s funny as hell, and she can be sweet, and God, she’s fucking sexy.” I run my hands through my hair again.
“What happened, then?” Meg asks with a frown.
“I left Saturday morning, and by the time I saw her again that night, she put her fucking walls back up and told me that she didn’t want to see me anymore. We both tried to hurt each other and it worked.” I can’t get the image of her crying on her countertop out of my head. Bent over, jeans around her knees, arms folded under her body, shaking.
Fuck, I’m an asshole.
“I don’t need her shit.”
Meg’s phone rings and she frowns at the display, then holds her finger up to me to hold on a minute and takes the call.
“Hello?”
I lean against the granite and listen half-heartedly.
“Sounds like you have the flu. What’s your temp?”
Someone is always calling her for medical advice. I’m so damn proud of my little sister. She’s excellent at her job.
“You need fluids and rest. It’s a virus, but you need to take some Tylenol and watch that temp.” Her eyes flick up to me and she shrugs and then ends the call. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug her off.
“So, you don’t need her shit,” Meg prompts me.
“No, I don’t. I don’t know what the fuck her problem is, but I don’t need it.”
“So don’t see her again.”
Is it that easy? The thought of not hearing her laugh, not sinking into her soft body, just… hurts.
And that pisses me off too.
“I don’t do relationships,” I remind Meg and she shakes her head at me in disgust.
“I think you like her.”
“When she’s not being a cold bitch, yeah, I like her.”
“I think she has trust issues, Leo.” Meg looks down at her coffee in thought.
“Don’t we all?” I ask sarcastically.
“I suppose.” She shrugs. “Remember, her brother is super famous, and she had to watch him deal with that. It’s probably not easy being related to someone that famous.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “I bet a lot of people have used her to get to him.”
“Are people using you to get to me?” I ask, pissed all over again.
“No.” she waves me off. “Until recently, most people didn’t know you and I are connected. But she and Luke are tight, and people suck.”
“But I have no reason to use her to get to Luke. I knew Luke before I knew her.”
“I’m just saying that could be why she’s so difficult to get to know, and why she’s not quick to make friends.”
I cross my arms over my chest and frown.
“I don’t think she has a lot of friends,” Meg murmurs, and I silently agree.
“I don’t need her shit,” I state again, firmly.
“Okay, so then why are you so pissed?” She asks. “You would typically flip her the bird and go about your life.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me, Leo.” Meg’s eyes are as soft as her voice, and she smiles gently at me, and I know I can’t fool her.
“She’s different,” I mutter with a scowl.
“Go apologize.”
“It’s going to take more than that.”
“Leo, if you pursue something with her, are you ready to tell her everything about before?” My stomach clenches at the thought.
Fuck. That should never touch her.
But, I remember her reaction at the story of my surgery, how she just held me, the first person to do so since my mom died, and my chest suddenly feels heavy.
“Not yet, but she’s the first person since you who I would consider telling.”
Meg’s eyes go wide, and to my horror, fill with tears. She blinks them away quickly.
“Okay.” She nods. “Don’t make me regret telling you this…”
***
~Samantha~
I’m dying. God is finally punishing me for being such a bitch, and is killing me slowly.
I deserve it.