The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(49)

“We got home last night.”

“Huh?” I fumble beneath my bedspread, trying to subtly search for the evidence. “I n-need to get dressed. Some privacy, please.”

“What’s wrong?” Troy asks. “You look a little pale. Didn’t you sleep well?” His feigned innocence has me on high alert.

“Mommy, we have something very important to ask you.”

Managing to find my voice, I look over at Dante. “Why aren’t you at the Leightons? Are you okay?”

“Yes. Troy came to pick me up.”

“What?”

“He took me to get a slushy, made me brush my teeth, and read me a story. He slept in my room to give you some rest.”

“You slept here?” I ask, sinking further into the bed, my hand still searching and coming up empty.

“Missing something?” Troy asks, his smirk now a full-on grin.

“What’s wrong with your hair?” Dante asks, tilting his head.

“Ah, yeah,” Troy adds, “it does look a little bunched in the back, doesn’t it?” You know that moment in Forrest Gump where Forrest and little Forrest both tilt their heads while watching TV and Jenny finds it endearing? This is NOT that moment.

“Get out! Get out both of you. I’ll talk to you in a minute.”

“It’s okay, Mommy,” Troy snickers, “It’s perfectly healthy to want some me time.”

I narrow my eyes. “Go.”

“But we need to ask you a question,” Dante whines.

“Give me a minute, son, to p-put on some clothes.” And find my sex toy. “Go on.”

Troy ushers him out of the room but not before mouthing the words “top drawer.”

I waste no time racing to my dresser and seeing that the toy was strategically hidden beneath my underwear.

He knows I used it.

He knows I used it!

Then it hits me. The review! Praying I didn’t post it, I scramble to my laptop and see not only is it published, but there are seventeen comments. The last one made by an unmistakable culprit.



Pleasure-Ranger12



Did it ever occur to any of you that it’s not the womanizer’s fault he’s got such a bad rep? That the title was slapped on him because of his performance alone and not the totality of his makeup? What if the womanizer has the best of intentions for his future model and thinks the less risky model is a douche who can’t give the woman what she needs? Contrary to popular belief, not all models are made the same. Take a chance, goodconsumer90.



Covering my mouth with my hand, I read the comment over and over. Troy not only knows I masturbated, but that I then debated with trolls on the internet about my attraction to him.

I want to slice open my mattress and crawl inside.

It’s worse than being picture of the week in the People of Walmart.

Standing in a scalding shower, I bury my face in my hands as R&B drifts through the house, and I hear the rustling of pans.

How can I face him?

And why is Dante here? The woman in me is mortified, but the mother in me overrules as I quickly towel off to see why Dante came home early.

Avoiding Troy’s eyes, I pour some juice for Dante while Troy whisks some eggs.

“Okay, what happened?”

“They were mean to me, so Troy came and picked me up.”

I pull him to stand in front of me, kneeling down, my heart breaking.

“They were mean to you, baby?”

“Yeah, but I don’t care because I’m going to find some friends who get me. I have to find my tribe.”

I look over to Troy, who smiles down at Dante.

“That’s…good advice.”

“Troy wants to take me someplace special and spend the night. Is that okay?”

I look over to Troy and see he’s watching me carefully as he cracks another egg.

“Yes. I guess that would be fine. But after breakfast. How about pancakes?”

“Troy’s making French toast.”

“But your favorite is pancakes.”

“Nothing wrong with French toast,” Troy taunts. “Some people would say it’s a better breakfast model.”

“Pancakes are just as delicious,” I argue.

“I disagree.” He bites his lips as he flips a piece of toast in the pan.

“Are you really going to do this?” I ask him, standing, as Dante takes his seat.

Troy turns to me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why don’t we let Dante decide?”

“Don’t bring him into this, you weirdo.”

“Weird is good,” Dante speaks up in his defense. “Weirdo means you won’t ever be boring.”

This he’s just learned, no doubt from the man whose mouth is lifting at the stove.

“Yes, it is, I was paying your fa-” Troy’s eyes widen, and his smile blinds me. I’m so flustered I’ve almost outed him myself.

“It was a compliment.”

Dante tilts his head. “Are you okay, Mommy?”

“I’m fine, I would just prefer pancakes!”

“Not what I read,” Troy mumbles.

I can feel the blush creep up my neck. I’ve hit my limit. “Troy, a word.”