Five: My Boyfriend

Dmitry

There are a couple of things I take pleasure in. My bike, my time, my friends. Now I can add something new to the list. Watching Gianna squirm at the thought of climbing onto the seat behind me.

Years ago she begged to ride with me. Now the apprehension is written all over her face, loud enough to hear without a single word spoken.

I snicker, lifting my visor and cocking my head as I examine my pretty little kitten.

Fuck.

I want to do the most insane things to her. She is gorgeous. Perfect. Her curls fall across her face and my fingers twitch with the urge to brush them back.

“Stop staring at me like that.” Her voice shakes, cheeks flushed, but I do not look away.

I am gone. Lost in the familiarity of her. I still remember the taste of her lips, salt and cherry.

I swing off the bike, pull my helmet off, and let the cool air hit my face.

“Look,” I say, swallowing the laughter crawling up my throat. “This is our only ride. You either hop on, or you walk home.”

I lean against the bike, watching her like she is the only thing worth staring at. In a way, she is.

She stares back, mouth hanging open.

“You are insufferable, Dmitry.” She spits the words, slipping her hand between her breasts and pulling her phone out.

Holy fuck.

I drag my eyes back up before she catches me staring. Fuck that should be my cock, slipping in and out those juicy breasts.

My eyes shut, the image almost clear in my head until her low giggle brings me back to the present.

I watch as her fingers fly across the screen. A second later, she holds the phone up triumphantly.

“In your face, jackass.”

I smile. Still stubborn. Still determined. Still Gia.

“Suit yourself, kitten.”

Her eyes flare with rage. “Stop calling me that.”

I tilt my head, feigning confusion. “Calling you what. Kitten?”

Her nostrils flare as she moves her attention to the lot entrance.

“Yes,” she snaps. “I told you already. Stop it.”

I push off the bike and take one slow step toward her, not enough to crowd her, just enough for her scent to flood my nostrils.

Vanilla, she still smells like vanilla.

“Can’t help it.” I shrug. “You still look like one and behave like one too. Claws first.”

She scoffs, finally looking my way but not saying anything to counter my words.

I am not sure how I will do it but I need my Gia back, without telling her the reason I left.

“Why are you still here?” she asks, finally saying something.

“You're still here.”

She points to the exit like she is trying to get rid of an intruder. “Leave, Dmitry.”

I don’t move.

Her eyes narrow. “You heard me. Go. You've helped enough. I'll meet you at your place."

I fold my arms, moving back to my bike.

“I’m waiting for your ride.”

She blinks, then widens her eyes before squinting them at me.

Fucking adorable.

“For what?”

“So I know you actually get into it,” I say, voice steady. “I need to make sure you're safe."

She stares at me like I have grown horns. Then her expression shifts, something softer underneath the irritation.

“One would think you care about me.” She tilts her head. “Or are you just saving face in case someone sees you letting me stand here alone?”

That one stings, right under the ribs and I know I should be trying to coddle her into winning her forgiveness but I am a jackass and she has always loved that.

“If I cared, kitten, you wouldn’t be calling another man for a ride.”

She makes a face like she wants to throw something at me.

Then her phone buzzes.

A smile lifts the corner of her lips and something in me snaps.

Not a fake one, a full blown Gia happy smile. One I haven't seen since the night on the hill.

The one that she always has on her face when we are together.

My fists curl so tight beside me I hear the crack of bone.

She answers, voice low and too damn gentle. “Hey. No. I haven’t left yet. I’m still outside.”

Who the fuck is that anyway?

My blood boils.

She laughs quietly, brushing her curls back, looking like she has forgotten I exist, like some background tv show on mute.

I stare at her, swallowing the urge to snatch the phone out of her ear and tell the asshole to fuck off.

She laughs again, soft and sweet, at whatever the person says. I clear my throat, hoping to steal an ounce of her attention, but she does not even pay me any heed.

God, this girl knows how to get under my skin.

Her voice drops lower as she whispers something that sounds a lot like “that is not true.”

I have to remind myself that I caused this. If I fought harder, if I stood my ground, maybe she would not be so hesitant to get on my bike. Maybe she would not be making soft little phone calls to another man.

It burns in my chest. There is no way someone else makes her this happy. She has to be doing it on purpose.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, head lowered. “I will be there soon.”

Be where.

With who?

My pulse thunders in my ears.

She finally hangs up, still smiling to herself.

Why am I angry at her for moving on?

“Who was that?” I keep my voice steady.

She blinks at me, slowly turning like she has forgotten I exist.

“Oh. Kevin. He wanted to know if we were home yet.”

Right. Kevin. I have completely forgotten about that fucker.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The words come out sharp, there is no use pretending. I don’t like him.

She shrugs and tucks her phone back into her cleavage. “I am not sure how that is your problem.”

I step forward before I can think, boxing her in without touching her.

“I am not asking as your brother's best friend.” My voice drops low. “I ask like a man who needs to know why he makes you smile like that.”

Her chest rises, eyes glazing over almost immediately leaving her mouth gaping like she wants me to kiss her.

And fuck me, I want to kiss her. I need to kiss her.

“You have no right to be jealous,” she whispers.

I smile, but it does not reach anything warm in me.

“Kitten, I am not jealous.” I am. I am dying of it. “I am territorial.”

Right then, headlights turn into the lot.

Her ride.

I do not move. I just stare past her at the approaching car.

Her voice comes out shaky. “My Uber is here.”

“I know.”

She hesitates, then steps around me. I watch her walk toward the car, dragging my hand down my face, forcing myself to breathe through the fury clawing up my ribs.

She reaches the door and wraps her fingers around the handle.

Then she whips her hair back and calls my name.

“Dmitry!”

I lift my head.

Her eyes lock on mine like she wants to carve the words into my skin.

“He is my boyfriend.”

She gets into the car, not bothering to see if her words affect me or not, leaving me like a lost wet puppy.

Boyfriend? I scoff, she has to be shitting me. There is no way in hell I let my Gia be another man's woman.