Page 2

Chapter Two

Levi

I stand and watch the play of emotions across Tamsin’s face. She never could hide anything she was thinking or feeling. We sort of went to school together even though I’m two years older than her. She took a lot of advanced classes that put her in higher grades…with me.

She was never prissy or stuck up and always tried to help other students. She didn’t date in high school but a couple of months ago she started with Zane Bridges who has always been nothing but an asshole. He had money -or his parents did- and threw it in everyone’s face. He treated people like shit and always thought he was too good to do anything nice to or for anyone. Honestly, when I heard she was dating him, I thought less of her.

And now here she is. In my fucking apartment.

“I don’t need your fucking judgment. I wanted your help, but I see now that was a mistake. It would seem I’m making a lot of those recently.”

She starts for the door, but I step in front of her stopping her. She’s so wound up she walks right into me, smack in the chest. I probably should have put a shirt on before opening my door, but I thought it was one of the guys from the garage. I had no idea I would find this little thing on my doorstep. My hands come up to steady her as she bounces off me. I start walking her backward until the couch catches the back of her legs and she sits down heavily in front of me.

Not any better than before. This new position puts her head level with my fucking cock which doesn’t understand it’s not needed in this conversation. Her scent encircles me like a goddamn cloud of temptation and now I know what having my hands on her feels like, if just for a little while. She lets out the cutest fucking gasp as she falls back. Sounds like those make a man wonder about things he shouldn’t. To keep from scaring the fuck out of her, I turn and reach for a shirt I have thrown over the back of one of my overstuffed chairs.

“Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking, kitten? And then we can talk about what you want from me.”

“I…wanted your help. I know, everyone knows, how much the two of you hate each other. I don’t know why exactly and if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine too.”

Why do I hate the fuck out of Zane Bridges? Where to even fucking start? Could be the fact we went after the same girl once when we were both about fourteen or fifteen. He used his money and his daddy’s influence to get the girl and promptly dumped her about a month later. Guess it’s his M.O. Or what about the fact he was always trying to start shit with me anytime we were in the same area. Always annoying me and trying to get me to beat the fuck out of him so he could run off to his daddy and cry about being a victim. Who knows how many cars and houses daddy bought that loser because he likes playing the victim? I never took his bait. Could be any or all of the above but mostly it’s just because he is a horrible fucking human being. Despicable, sorry, and always trying to ruin everyone around him because of how sad and pathetic he is.

“I wanted to…pretend to date, knowing it will piss him off like nothing else either of us could do. I wanted to make him so jealous he would beg me to take him back, dumping that twat I called friend, and letting me have the opportunity to finally crush him when I tell him I wouldn’t take him back for anything. Nothing he could do. I want to absolutely shake his foundation he builds his conceited little fantasies on and break him.”

“I hope you're not here to ask me to help you kill and bury him in the end because I suck at cleaning up and one of us has to be the other’s alibi.”

“Oh my God!” She hops up, her eyes round and I prepare myself to be preached at about the sins of killing or even thinking such a thing. “What is wrong with you? Living with his emasculation will be so much more rewarding than the quick moment of pleasure his death would bring.”

Now, I’m the one who’s shocked and surprised.

“Besides, I’m not good at cleaning up either.”

Damned if I don’t like her sense of humor. Not everyone gets my fucked-up humor.

“I don’t want him dead. I just want him to feel what he makes other people feel. I want him to suffer long after both of us have moved on.”

“So let me get this straight. You want to use me to make your boyfriend…”

“Ex!” She interrupts to immediately correct me.

“Your ex-boyfriend jealous? By being your fake boyfriend?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And you chose me because you know we can’t stand each other.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“What’s in it for me, sugar?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s in it for me?” I enunciate each word, so she understands me perfectly.

“You mean besides seeing a guy you hate and called a ‘dickless wonder’ get crushed? What else do you want?”

There’s a hint of fear tucked behind all that bravado she’s putting out into the world. I wonder if it’s me she’s afraid of or just the situation. Maybe she’s just not used to…asking for help. Or maybe she’s not sure she can trust me yet. It’s going to be fun finding out.

“I’ll think about it and let you know, kitten.”