She immediately narrowed her eyes as ice flooded her simmering veins. “How do you know my name?”
The woman let out a frustrated grunt and hung up. She sat there staring at the phone, confused.
She rounded the corner into the living room, her voice already rising an octave. “How did that woman know my name?” she demanded.
Henrik, who had returned to his seat on the couch, casually propped his feet up on the coffee table before shrugging. “That’s the kind of thing friends discuss.”
“Obviously, you do want to discuss it, or you wouldn’t have told me to answer it. Was that the woman from the elevator?”
He smirked. “Still upset about her, huh?”
“Henrik.”
“No, it’s not the girl from the elevator.” He grinned. “Though I suspect she isn’t very fond of you either.”
“How did she know my name?” she repeated, each word seething out between her clenched teeth.
This time when he smiled, it almost sent her over the edge.
“Tell me!” She threw his phone at him. “Or next time you can grow some balls and piss off your own mistakes.”
“Don’t get mad.” He laughed, noticeably turning his phone off and sticking it in his pocket. “There was a slight miscommunication during a late night call the other night.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“It was three a.m. I was half asleep when I answered,” he explained further, as though it should be obvious, “and I thought she was you.”
She froze, her mouth suddenly dry. “Why would you think she was me?”
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shrug it off. “I don’t know, because I was half asleep. That’s why.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Try again.”
“All she said was, ‘I really need you. Can I come over?’”
She scoffed, placing her hand on her hip. “And you thought that was me?”
“Wishful thinking?”
“This isn’t funny.”
He shot her that sorcerous smile that drove her crazy. “It kind of is.”
She was more determined than ever not to let him win. “No, it isn’t. That woman has feelings, and you just disappointed her—again, apparently. Does it even bother you?”
He shook his head, half laughing. “Okay, let me get this straight. First, you’re pissed that they call, and now you’re upset when I blow them off. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing. That’s the point. I expect nothing from you.” She whirled around, acutely aware of the heat flooding her face, and her pulse racing. She’d let herself go too far, and she would surely pay the price for it later. She needed to leave before things got worse.
Henrik was on her heels, though, and he caught the edge of her shirt before she could reach the door and turned her around to face him. “Stop. Please.”
She bit her lip, her entire body trembling. “No. This conversation is over.”
They would have been nose to nose if Henrik weren’t so damn tall. “Not even close,” he growled back at her.
The handle on the door behind them started to jiggle, but neither of them moved. When Austin walked in, Drew tight on his heels, they stood off to the side, staring at the sight of them.
“What the hell is going on?” Austin demanded, his evaluating glare going between them.
“Nothing,” Henrik answered, never breaking eye contact. “Just a gentle disagreement between friends.”
“Gentle,” Austin scoffed. “We could hear you yelling at each other all the way down the hallway. Now, I am going to ask you one more time. What’s going on?”
Her blood pumped too fast through her system. Her head felt light. Small balls of light flashed in front of her eyes, and she knew she only had minutes before everything would go from terrible to tragic. She needed to take her medicine. Lie down and rest. She spun around on her heel and headed for the door.
“Running again,” Henrik said bitterly. “Really?”
She knew it was mean, but the words left her mouth before she even thought it through. “Watching me go again. Really?”
She slammed the door in his face and rushed down the hallway. She had more important things to worry about right now than Henrik Rylander’s stunted feelings.
Chapter 11
HENRIK’S JEALOUSY
Henrik was dead tired, his muscles aching after the three-hour practice, and any other day, he would have trudged home and crashed in his bed until he lost consciousness. Except, it was pointless, because he’d already tried that yesterday and every other day this week, only to end up lying there for hours thinking about Leila. Her words haunted him, and he couldn’t quite figure them—or her—out.
If she didn’t want to be friends, why did she take his offer to hang out?
If her goal was to avoid dinner, then she could have easily ditched him when they got back to the apartment. She hadn’t, though. Instead, she’d helped order pizza, and they’d had an actual, meaningful conversation.
He’d never told anyone about his mother, and he wasn’t sure why he chose that exact moment to tell Leila, except it felt like the right thing to do.
The right thing.
He wondered if he even knew what the right thing was anymore. Sam told him to be Leila’s friend, to ignore his natural instinct to seek out the physical gratification he knew they could provide each other, and just be a nice guy. Leila wanted no part of his nice guy routine, though. Either that, or she saw through it completely. He couldn’t help that he was attracted to her. It took every ounce of his crumbling willpower not to touch her, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends too.
She was jealous of the other women, or at least, she acted jealous. For all he knew, it was merely disgust, cleverly disguised as jealously. Either way, she made it obvious they could never be friends if he had other women coming around. He’d been honest about one thing, though. He didn’t care if she pissed them off. It didn’t matter to him if she ran off every last one of them.
It should, but it didn’t.
His brilliant plan to prove his disinterest in his old habits backfired. It seemed any choice he made was wrong. Of course, that made Drew pleased as punch. Austin too, even though he wasn’t as vocal about it as his brother was. He could see the way Austin smiled every time Leila barely acknowledged him, a tiny quirk at the corner of his lips.
Throwing his gym bag down the hallway toward his apartment, he stopped at Drew’s door to consider his options. He could go on to his room and continue the constant rambling in his mind as he fought off rest, or he could ruin her day by showing up unannounced again. He knocked on Drew’s door before he could finish the thought.
He couldn’t hear any movement inside, but he knew she was home. Leila was always home. She barely ever left the apartment. When no one answered, after forcefully knocking for the fourth time, he took it upon himself to do the honorable thing and check on her.
One of the perks of paying for your brother’s apartment was you could demand a key. He eased the door open, only to find the living room and kitchen empty. “Hello?” he yelled, but instead of a response, he caught the sound of a muffled television. He made his way down the hallway, stopping at the door of Drew’s bedroom to peek inside.
Something in his gut stung as his hand reflexively clenched around the side of the doorframe, and it made no sense whatsoever. It was Drew, lying in bed with Leila, their feet crossed together at the ankles as they lounged against a sea of pillows, watching a re-run of Gossip Girl. Drew looked up and smiled.
It wasn’t his usual smile, but rather a satisfied one. He felt a little like the Hulk, as if something ugly that lived deep inside was about to spring out and wipe that damn smirk off his face.