Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Kim
I crack my eyes open, trying to figure out what time it is and what woke me. I've been exhausted this week and I have no idea why.
My phone rings and I realize that's what must have interrupted my sleep.
Lifting my head, the harsh shrill of the ring sounds in my ear again, and I reach out a fumbling hand, trying to swim from the fog long enough to make the sound stop.
I pick it up and see my mom's name flash across the screen. Letting out a long groan, I stare at the screen for a beat longer before I finally answer.
I know we haven't talked very much the last month…
To be honest, I'm not exactly proud of what I did with Leo. In fact, it's everything my mom has warned me my entire life not to do.
She was nineteen when she got pregnant with me, I have no idea who my dad is. He was never around, I don't even know if he knows I exist.
We've never discussed it. What I do know is that my mom has told me a thousand times if she's told me once, not to get carried away by attractive men.
To stick to my goals and to make something of myself. It's become like this mantra in my head.
"Hey Mom," I croak into the phone.
"Kimmy?" she replies back. "Are you still sleeping?"
"Umm," I answer. "Yeah."
"It's one in the afternoon."
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the screen. So it is. "I've been working a ton of doubles and not getting out until really late. Just a bit worn out."
I swear, I can hear her nodding. "It's really too bad about that class. I'm sorry you have to retake it for an interview that didn't even…"
"It's fine." That's the other reason I've been avoiding my mom. I think she might be as disappointed as I am about the New York Ballet. Maybe more.
It was her dream before it was mine and I know it kills her that I got so close and then didn't succeed.
She worked really hard to get me here. I hate disappointing her.
"Are you eating healthy?" she asks, going into dance mom mode, I swear. "Getting studio time?"
"Mom, I'm good." I plant my face back into my pillow.
"What about dating, sweetheart?"
"Mom." I do not want to start on this.
"You've hardly seen anyone since that nice boy, freshman year."
"I know." Chasing the dream of a professional dancer does not leave me much time for dating and the boyfriend wasn't all that nice. "I've been really busy."
Maybe I need some coffee. I'm not a regular drinker but I need some fortification for this conversation. The truth is, I just gave up my studio hours because I can't afford to pay for them and my class. Once I get my degree and I can get a day job, hopefully as a choreographer or dance teacher, I can afford studio time again.
The idea of spending all day teaching actually makes me happier, and the feeling perks me up enough to push myself out of bed.
I put the phone on speaker so that I can shrug on a tank top before heading out to the kitchen.
As a group of dancers who spend a lot of time changing together, none of my roommates wear very much around the apartment so it's not weird that I'm coming out of my room in nothing but a tank and underwear.
I mute the phone as I step into the bathroom and swish out my mouth and then run a brush through my hair. My natural curls are an unruly mass this morning, but I'll straighten them after coffee.
On the other end of the phone, my mom is chattering away. Her classes are good, she's moving again.
I unmute the phone, bringing it to my ear. "Why are you moving this time?"
"My current landlord wants to take advantage of the hot market and sell," she sighs. "It would be so nice to own my own place so I don't have to move every two years."
I wince as I start for the kitchen, sure there will be some left over coffee. We all work late as waitresses or dancers, our studio time taking place in the late morning or afternoon so there is usually coffee in the pot all day.
But the soft murmur of voices makes me stop in the hall.
I hear Chandra chattering away but, some other tone catches my notice. Did I imagine it or was there a male rumble to accompany her voice?
I stop listening to my mom, focusing on the conversation in the kitchen, but I only hear Chandra. Maybe she's on the phone. Which is good. She's been pestering me to interview at some club that is not my style at all and she's being really annoying about it. Which is saying a lot. Chandra never stops talking. Not even when she's sleeping with a guy. I would know, her room is next to mine.
I have three roommates, all Las Vegas dancers, so a fair number of guys end up sleeping over here.
Danielle, a petite blonde who's a few years older than me, has a steady boyfriend, and he's had to kick out some drunk assholes more than once. He's a good guy.
But Chandra and Kendall both have terrible taste in men.
Muting the phone again, I stop just outside the kitchen, and decide I should just peek around the corner to see if more clothing is appropriate.
Sure enough, I catch a broad shoulder in my quick view, a man's back to me as he sits at our tiny kitchen table.
Leaning back over, my brow scrunches. There is something so familiar about the set of that shoulder.
"Kim?" Chandra calls. "Is that you? Are you finally up?"
"Hang on," I say, turning to go back to my room to put on a pair of shorts at least. But before I've even completed the pivot, a man stands and steps from the kitchen and I audibly gasp as a tall, dark, and devastating man catches the side of my vision.
Leo.
My chin notches up, my eyes moving from his broad chest, to his muscled arms, to those massive shoulders. They continue over the thick cords of his neck, over the square jaw, stopping at the one-sided wolfish smile he's now wearing.
"Hello, gorgeous."
"You," I gasp back, my brain still not really processing. How is Leo here?
Chandra appears next to him, looking for all the world like the cat who got the milk. Did Leo hook up with my roommate?
Something dark and ugly bottoms out in my belly and I unmute the phone. "Mom, I've got to go."
"But we just got on the phone," she complains. "I've barely talked to you all month."
"I'll call you tomorrow," I promise before I quickly hang up and then spin, starting down the hall for my tiny room before I legit start to cry.
I'm not usually emotional, but I don't really have time to think about it as I reach my door and push into my room, grabbing the handle to slam it behind me.
But a very large hand stops the swing before it can shut.
Leo pushes the door open and slides into my room, closing it behind him.
I stare at him, my mouth surely agape. This is my room…what does he think he's doing? "Get out."
One eyebrow cocks up. "Hang on, princess."
"Don't princess me," I spit back. "I am not your princess."
His eyes are moving over me now and I know he's taking in the fact that I'm braless, in a tiny tank and a little pair of bikini briefs.
I see his eyes darken as he takes a step closer.
"Leo," I hold up a hand to keep my space. "Get out of my room."
"I need to talk to you."
"Well, I don't need to talk to you."
He shakes his head, looking wary and a bit guilty. "Why are you so pissed?"
I wave my hand in the general direction of Chandra. "What are you doing here with my roommate, as if I don't know?"
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by a pleased little grin that makes me squirm. "You're jealous," he says, his smile growing.
"I'm totally fine with our arrangement, Thanksgiving and all that, but keep your dick out of my roommates."
"I'm a free man and I can do what I want with my dick," he says and then he takes another step toward me.
My hand drops and lands on my hip, even as my chin notches. Because two can play that game. "Does that mean I'm free to sleep with your brother Roman?"
His smile is gone in a second, his gaze so fierce, I ought to be afraid. I don't have time, because one of his arms wraps about my back, the other around my thighs as he pulls me to his chest and lifts me in the air.
I can't deny, that even as furious as I am, a part of my body still responds to him. He feels so good against me.
My hands automatically come to his shoulders to steady myself. "Only if you want me to kill my brother."
I blink down at him, sure he's joking, but he looks dead serious. "So you're free to sleep with whomever…" And I wave toward the kitchen again.
Leo sighs, but he doesn't put me down. "I didn't touch your roommate. She's not my style."
Now I'm completely confused. He sounds like he's being honest. "Then, why are you here?"
He looks up at me, then, one of his hands slides up to cup my exposed butt cheek. His fingers curl around the flesh so that his fingertips are dangerously close to my… "You didn't call."
Now it's my turn to be confused. "Call?"
He holds me for another second before he lowers me to the ground. The moment he steps away, I miss his hands on my bare skin.
Doing a quick sweep of the room, he walks over to my tiny vanity that's covered in scarves, hats, and purses, and he pulls off the tiny pale green clutch I used at the wedding. Then he hands it to me.
Pushing open the clasp, I open it and instantly gasp. Because inside is his business card…with his number. "I didn't…that wasn't…" But clearly, in the craziness of going to New York and then coming back, I missed the fact that Leo had, in fact, given me his number.
A flush climbs up my cheeks as I try to decide how I feel about this new information. Or how much I liked his arms around me just now.
"It was and you didn't. Call."
I nip at my lip, not sure what that means. "You're here to ask me out?"
He scowls at me, his arms crossing over his large chest. "No. I'm here to offer you a job."
Is it just me or does this day just keeping getting weirder? Tossing the clutch on the bed, I pass Leo to head back to the kitchen. "I think I need coffee."
Leo follows me out of the room and into the kitchen, where I grab a mug. "Do you want some?" I ask.
"Of that? No," he answers, returning to his seat.
I grab the pot and pour out a cup, clutching it in my hands as I go to take a sip.
But it smells awful. How long ago was this made? I wrinkle my nose and set the cup down again. "Good choice. This smells rancid or something."
The kitchen is about as small as it can be while still functionable, so Leo sitting in the chair is barely two feet from where I stand at the pot. His hand shoots out, cupping my hip as he pulls me closer again.
I'm trying to keep up. Didn't he just say that he wasn't here to ask me out?