4th & Girl

In fact, if I had an extra room in my apartment, I’d have been half tempted to create a shrine in its honor. Candles, photos, and just the right amount of creepy lighting to make it believable, it would’ve looked like a set from The Craft.

Which, if you haven’t seen the movie The Craft, you are seriously missing out.

Four girls who happen to be witches casting spells on their fellow asshole classmates?

It is every teenage girl’s revenge fantasy.

Plus, Skeet Ulrich is a total babe in that movie.

And, seriously, who doesn’t love a young Neve Campbell?

Only two official dates and I’d apparently barreled past the point of playing it cool and landed straight in the “I’m crushing on you so bad, and I can’t hide it” stage.

Because I was. I was crushing on Leo Landry hard.

After he set down his messenger bag on the kitchen table, he held up one large brown paper bag and grinned. “Hungry?”

“If you say there are tacos in that bag, I might get down on one knee and propose marriage.”

His responding smile was infectious. “What about the best burgers and fries in Brooklyn? Is the marriage proposal still on the table then?”

Burgers were nice, but I loved tacos.

“Nope.”

“Damn,” he muttered. “Well, feel free to go sit somewhere else while I enjoy these juicy burgers.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” I said and put one defiant hand to my hip. “I never said I wouldn’t eat the burgers and fries.”

“But what if I don’t want to share now?” he asked with a mischievous raise of his brow. “I mean, you got me all amped up for a marriage proposal, and now I’m completely let down.”

“Should I remind you that you came over here so that I could help you with grad homework?”

“All right, Gem. I guess you can have a burger.” Leo grinned and held out the bag toward me.

I snatched it from his hands, and he chuckled as I headed toward the cabinets and started dishing out the food onto actual plates. I might’ve been a heathen, but I was the kind of heathen who used dishes. Classy as fuck.

As part of my right as the food distributor, I popped a fry into my mouth and moaned. “Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff.”

“Yet not good enough, apparently,” he teased, and I flashed him a roll of my eyes over my shoulder.

“Ketchup? Mustard? Mayo?” I asked and started pulling out the condiment bottles from my fridge.

“Mayo?”

“You’ve never dipped your fries in mayonnaise before?”

He shook his head. “Um, no.”

“Oh my God, you are seriously missing out.”

“On a heart attack, maybe. It doesn’t matter anyway. By the time you bring the food over here, I’m pretty sure you’ll have eaten all of my fries.”

“It was just one!” I shouted with an outraged laugh, turning to look at him. “And we’re not all health-conscious football stars, Leonard,” I snorted. “Some of us enjoy the greasier, junk food things in life from time to time.”

“I’m not health-conscious.”

I quirked a brow. “You have six-pack abs and the freaking V muscle. Only a squeaky-clean diet and insane workouts can get you those glorious things.”

“Glorious things?” he questioned with a devilish grin. “Sounds like you’re a fan.”

“Shut up and grab the condiment bottles and your homework. We’re going to binge in my bed.”

“Sounds kinky,” he teased, and I sashayed my hips a little as I walked.

“Burgers, fries, mayonnaise,” I purred. “Things are about to get all kinds of dirty up in this place.”

We settled into my bed, our plates of junk food displayed like a mouthwatering buffet on top of my comforter, and I switched on the television to a rerun of Live PD.

“It’s crazy the number of people who are never driving their own cars,” Leo commented.

“Or wearing their own pants,” I added, and he laughed.

“It’s always someone else’s drugs.”

“Always,” I agreed, and my eyes went wide with delight when the officers called in the K-9 unit to sniff a guy’s car for drugs. “Yesssss!” I exclaimed. “This is my favorite part!”

Leo grinned. “The K-9’s?”

“Hell yes! Bring in the K-9’s!”

We watched and ate while the cops found a stash of drugs in poor Tommy’s car that apparently wasn’t Tommy’s car. It was his friend’s car. A friend for whom he didn’t have any information. More of an acquaintance, so to speak. Obviously, Tommy had just borrowed the car and had no idea there were drugs inside.

Not to mention, the crack pipe in his pants also wasn’t his.

Poor Tommy was having a real shit night.

But, me? I was having a fabulous fucking night.

All thanks to Leo.

Handsome, playful, hilarious Leo.

The man had my full attention.

Once we finished our food, he pulled his laptop out of his messenger bag, and we dove headfirst into his current assignment.

Surprisingly, not only was Leo a freaking professional football star for the New York Mavericks, but he was also a grad student taking an online course at RIT.