Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (57 page)

And there it was. My frustration, my anger, my rage, all boiling over and spilling into my lap.

I stood up just as one of the waiters approached with our order.

I backed up a step as he set it down on the table and disappeared into the restaurant like we were a blaze he'd rather not get burned by. I knew my eyes sparked with rage and my hands trembled, knew Flor could see my expression flickering across my features as he rose from his chair and glared straight back at me. From an early age I'd known he used sex to get over other feelings, to numb pain. He used girls and he tossed them aside because why? Because of me? I wasn't going to let him do it again. I pictured Rhonda sitting in his studio, winking at me, telling me there was nothing wrong with nice guys, smiling at me as I came out of his house in a teary rage.

No.

If he wanted Rhonda, he was going to have to earn her.

“I hate you sometimes,” I told him, and I hoped he could feel the truth in my words.

I turned on my heel and walked away.

Flor let me go without a word.

I hated him for that, too.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I spent the following day being dragged around town by Addi and Theo, and the week after that doing anything and everything
but
thinking about Florian. I made up with Max after cornering him and questioning him about the girl at the concert. He'd stuttered and flushed, scratching at the back of his head and putting on that nice guy grin that could fool anyone, even me sometimes. He told me that, yeah, he was a little too flirty sometimes, but he'd sworn up and down that he hadn't had sex with another girl since we'd gotten back together. I didn't even bother to ask about before, when we'd first started dating. Truth be told, I didn't want to know.

I destroyed my homework with religious fervor, went out to lunch with my dad and promised I'd watch the house that following weekend, even managed to get in an inordinate amount of practice on my cello. I cleaned my room and didn't think of Flor, had a girls' night in with Addi and didn't think about Flor, and made an admittedly delicious chicken pot pie (with homemade crust), all without thinking about Flor.

But at night? That was a different story. My heart contracted painfully as I lay in the dark and closed my eyes, praying that I wouldn't dream of him again. It kept happening until the point where I actually asked Addi for some of her sleeping pills. He didn't try to call me, didn't try to come over, and when I went to lunch with my dad, he said nothing about him.

I tried to imagine that this was like detox, that Flor was the drug I'd always jokingly referred to him as. I wanted that damn drug out of my system.

When the weekend finally rolled around again and I knew I'd have more free time on my hands, I dedicated it to watching my parents' house with a vengeance. I watered all of River's stupid, delicate exotic plants and brushed their cat out, trimming a few small mats from its long, luxurious orange fur. I mowed the backyard and spent several hours in my old room, sorting through things that I'd left behind. On Sunday, I'd finally run out of things to do and settled on the couch to watch a horror movie, a pint of low fat ice cream tucked in beside me. I'd been making an effort to exercise, too, to shed some of the 'baby fat' that I'd been carrying around for far too long. And the thing is, this time, it wasn't for Flor's benefit. I just wanted to be trim and fit, not skinny. If I felt healthy and looked healthy, then I couldn't really ask for anything more, now could I?

I spooned some Cherry Garcia goodness into my mouth, dragging the creamy cold pink across my tongue. Addi and I were texting back and forth. She'd been planning to come over and hang out, but Patrick had flown in unexpectedly and they'd gotten lost in each other. I understood and I told her to enjoy the evening while simultaneously writing to Max to see what he was up to. He told me he had a client, but that he'd try to stop by later.

Halfway into my carton and about twenty minutes into the movie, I saw headlights sweep across the curtains as a car pulled into the driveway. A few minutes later keys sounded in the door as I finished another bite of my much needed treat.

“Dad?” I called, waiting as I listened to footsteps sound across the wood floor. Only, as soon as I heard them, I knew that wasn't my dad. My dad did not wear boots – only Flor did. He paused in the doorway to the living room and our eyes met, my body instantly crying out for him, undoing all of the careful work I'd taken on this week in an effort to extricate him from my life.

Shit.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, a lot meaner than I'd intended. Showing him how much I still really cared was not going to get him off my back. Indifference would've been much preferred. He ignored me for a moment, his gaze traveling from the ice cream to the blanket on my shoulders to the television screen and then back to my face. I watched from the corner of my eye as he tucked his hands back in his pockets, keys jangling as he wrangled them into the tight denim.

“Mom and Dad,” he said, using those hated words of mine, “said we needed to watch the house while they were gone. I came to feed the cat and water the plants.”

I pursed my lips.

“It's a little late, don't you think? The cat would be dead right now if he'd had to wait for you.” I continued on with my ice cream and cringed inwardly when Flor moved over to the cushions and sat down beside me. I didn't bother looking at him, hoping he'd leave sooner rather than later, when he started kicking off his boots, stealing a corner of my blanket and taking refuge on the opposite side of the couch.

I glared at him and he met my gaze with a bored stare. It did nothing to diminish the beautiful green of his eyes and I found my breath catching in my throat.
Damn it.
I felt like an alcoholic taking a swig from a bottle of vodka after a week sober. It shouldn't feel so good, but it did, burning on its way down and taking over me.

“How are the kittens?” I asked instead, hoping to keep the words between us tame. As soon as the movie was over I'd leave and it wouldn't have to look like I was running away.

“Good,” he said noncommittally, stretching both arms above his head. His shirt lifted just enough for me to see his abs, the tightness of his muscles beckoning to me in a way that just wasn't right. Last night, Max and I had … we'd managed to find time to spend the night together, rolling around in my old bed in a way that my father never would've approved of. So it wasn't like I was desperate for sex. I'd just had some and here I was, pining over fucking Florian again. “Getting bigger by the day. You still want one, right?”

“I never said I wanted one,” I told him, spooning more ice cream into my mouth. “You told your mom that in an effort to get me out of the house. I can't take on a cat right now. I have a lot on my plate.”

Flor grunted, but I could tell he wasn't happy about it.

“What about Rhonda? Why not give one or two to her? Then can you can keep the others.” Flor said nothing, yet again, leaving me fuming and frustrated on my end of the couch. When he adjusted himself, lifting his legs up onto the cushions, our feet bumped together and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stay calm. Even the simplest touch from him undid me. I wondered if he felt the same? That thought brought Flor's words back to my mind unbidden.

The smell of your skin, your hair, your breath … it undoes me.

Provided he'd been telling the truth then, I had my answer, didn't I? The answer was yes, yes it did.

“What did you mean?” I started to ask as he turned his head slowly to look at me. His fingers came out and snatched my ice cream carton away. “Hey!” I struggled after it, ending up more on top of him than I really wanted to be. “I worked my ass off this week for that.”

“Low fat?” he said with a wrinkle of his nose. “Why the hell would you want to eat that?”

I frowned at him, forgetting for a brief moment all of the crap that was happening between us.

“I'm working out, trying to lose some weight.” I pinched the skin of my hip. “I'm not succumbing to the freshman fifteen. I
refuse.
I'm finally going to shed some of this baby fat.”

“Baby fat?” Flor raised his eyebrows skeptically. “
Nee-chan,
that's not baby fat.” He leaned forward and swept an arm around my waist, simultaneously lifting my shirt up and grazing his fingers against my skin. “This is … fuck. This is all about being a woman. You're supposed to be soft.” I slapped his hand away and stumbled back, my cheeks flushing, my heart stuttering.

No. No. I wouldn't do this again. Not again. Not for the hundredth plus freaking time.

“Flor, stop,” I said, but he'd already retreated, putting his legs back on the floor and spooning out the last bites of ice cream for himself.

“I'm going to go make some popcorn,” he told me and then stood up. I breathed a sigh of relief the second he left the room and turned back to the TV. I didn't even care what was happening in the movie anymore. It just didn't seem relevant. Who the hell cared what choices a movie heroine made when I couldn't even dictate my own life?

I listened to the distant sound of cabinet doors opening and closing, wondering if Flor was looking for the fridge the same way I always did when I came over here. What was so wrong with having a fridge you could see anyway? I liked our old kitchen better, the one with the worn countertops and the cabinets that didn't quite close all the way. It felt homey, real. The more I thought about it, the more realized I actually hated the new remodel.

“This kitchen fucking sucks,” Flor said, coming back in the living room and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. I tried not to notice how the black cotton fabric of his T-shirt stretched across his muscles, how his jeans hugged his legs and slung low across his hips. Even though he'd essentially been wearing different versions of the same outfit for years, I couldn't stop appreciating it – or the body underneath.

I just stared at him, tucking myself back under the blanket. I listened to the whirring noise of the popcorn maker and tried not to let myself get too comfortable. It felt too …
right
when we were together like this, too much like old times. And then, of course, Flor had to go and agree with me on every little thing all the time. Why? Why couldn't we be like the stepsiblings I saw on TV that fought all the time? And our parents just had to be this fairytale couple, didn't they?

“What are you even doing here, Flor?” I asked finally. “I mean, not why did you stop by, but why are you still here? Max is probably already on his way here.” A lie, of course, because I knew Max wasn't coming for some time, but I liked the way the news of his best friend's imminent arrival ruffled Flor's feathers. “You offered to cheat on your girlfriend to teach me a lesson, Flor. What makes you think I want to hang out with you now?”

“If that's what you think I was doing, Abigail, then maybe you should have my fucking mother give you a head exam.” He turned away and disappeared into the kitchen in a rage, not something I hadn't seen before. When he came back, he had a bowl of popcorn in his hand, drizzled in butter and salt, just the way I liked it.
Damn it.

Flor sat down and started eating, watching the movie like he was actually interested in the plot. I tried to do the same, but my eyes kept moving over to his and every once in a while, our hands would meet in the popcorn bowl and a thrill would travel up my spine. I felt like I was in high school again and Flor was the boyfriend I'd always wanted but never had.

“All I was saying, Abi, was that maybe it'd get me out of your system, that's it.”

“Oh, so you graciously offered to fuck me so I could clear my head of your wonderfulness?”

“Wonderfulness isn't even a word.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No.”

“Who's the C student here?” I asked. “Not me.” Flor narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

“Sorry,
nee-chan,
my bad. You win, as usual.” I snatched the remote and turned the movie off. I'd wanted to wait until it was over, but I couldn't. I couldn't wait even a second longer in here with him, playing this game, doing this back and forth thing.

I stood up and he followed after me, into the kitchen where I'd left my purse.

I grabbed it, yanking my coat off of a nearby chair and spun around, only to run face first into Flor's chest. His hands came out and grabbed my shoulders, holding me back.

“Let go of me,” I demanded, but Flor was never one to take orders from anyone.

“Abigail,” he began, but I shook my head.

“Stop it!” I screamed, my voice echoing around the sterile kitchen. “LET GO OF ME!” I yelled so loud that my stepbrother actually dropped his hands, eyes wide with shock as I stood there panting and barefoot and so frustrated I could scream. “You know what, Florian? Maybe it's not just me who has a problem? Maybe it's you, too? You say we can't be together, that you're my brother, that you only see me as a sister, but I don't think that's true. Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were afraid to let me go.”

I looked up at him, challenging him, expecting a fight.

Instead, all I got was, “you're right.”

Flor closed the distance between us again, knocking my purse and coat from my arms as he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. Our lips met and between one breath and the next, his tongue was in my mouth and I was kissing him back without a thought as to what I was doing. My body took over, that heat and fire he'd always ignited inside of me burning bright, melting my inhibitions away like alcohol. His strong fingers needed the flesh on my hip, dropped back to cradle my lower back, caress the dip of my spine, before coming down and cupping my ass.

I moaned into him and he growled right back at me, like an animal, moving us forward until my thighs hit the cabinets, until I had nowhere else to go but closer to him. Our bodies molded around one another and my hands found his back, exploring that forbidden territory with gusto, desperate for it, for him, for this moment.