by Huss, JA
“Yeeeello.”
I laugh a little. “You’re a dumbass.”
“Hey, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll go kiss her goodnight for you.”
“Asshole. OK, I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“Later, Larue.”
The line goes silent before I can respond to Spencer’s dig.
Nothing I can do. Ford is right, this is all about her and there’s just nothing I can do.
Chapter Fifteen - Rook
I’m up with time to spare the next day. I throw on some black yoga pants, a black running tank, a Shrike Bikes zippered hoodie, and my running shoes. Ford lives above the shop, so I grab my camera and head down the driveway to see if he’s awake and ready.
Spencer has all his doors coded like Chaput Studios so the crew and other employees can get access when they need to, so I punch in my code and walk through the shop reception area. This is where I’ll be working. Answering phones, making appointments for clients to Skype in with Spencer and place a custom order, driving around town picking up and dropping shit off.
Your basic receptionist-slash-delivery driver position.
Right now the shop has eight bikes in progress. Spencer and another guy named Ryan build the custom bikes, while Fletch and Griff make the showroom bikes. Customers are allowed to ask for modifications, so they do a little custom shit too. What Ford will be doing here is beyond me. As far as I know, he doesn’t build bikes. But he’s been known to surprise me before. He lives upstairs above the shop in another apartment. I walk to the far end of the work area, picking my way between half-built bikes and tool chests, then climb the steep steps.
I knock.
I hear a faint, “Come in,” from behind the door.
“Ford?” I call back as I open the door.
“You’re early,” he says through a mouthful of toothbrush. He’s wearing a pair of old jeans that hang low on his hips, exposing his happy trail because he has no shirt on.
Hmmm. Ford is not a bad-looking guy. He’s all muscle, but not the same way that Spencer is. Spencer is bulky and buff. Ford is lean and taut.
Taut. What a great word. I laugh internally at that, then realize I laughed externally as well.
“Stop staring at me. I never stared at you when you were prancing around naked all summer.”
“I didn’t prance! And I’m not staring,” I reply, blushing. “I was comparing your body to Spencer’s.”
He walks back into the bathroom to spit and rinse. “How do I stack up?” he asks, walking across the hallway to his bedroom to change.
“Umm—” I shouldn’t even go there.
He peeks his head around the corner and tugs a black shirt on. “Well? You can be honest because let’s face it, I’m much better built than Spencer.” He ducks back into his room and I laugh.
“Well, you’re certainly more full of yourself.”
“Right. That’s a good one. I’m humble compared to Spencer.” He comes back out into the little living room with his shoes and sits down on the couch. His jeans are gone now, and replacing them are his usual black running pants. “Why do you have that camera? Is this gonna be your thing? You’re one of those film students who records every moment of their life?”
I shrug. “Maybe. What’s it to you? I’m eager, that’s all.”
He looks up from lacing a shoe and smiles. “Yes, I can tell.”
I’m not sure if that was innuendo or not, so I change the subject. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“CSU Football stadium. It’s southwest of FoCo, but there’s a back road we can take from Bellvue, so it shouldn’t take too long to get there. It’s a scenic drive, that’s for sure. So you can film that if you want something nice for B-roll.”
“I love it when you talk film to me, Ford.”
He smirks up at me as he finishes up his shoes. “You’re not allowed to be this happy at five in the morning. I will train that smug smile right off your face in about twenty minutes, you wait.”
He grabs his keys and one of those trendy running jackets and we hop down the stairs and walk outside to his Bronco. I get my camera ready just in case there is something pretty to shoot for B-roll. You never know when you’ll need a shot of Colorado back country.
We drive in silence—well, that’s relative because this hunk of junk is not exactly quiet. But neither of us mind letting the rumble of the engine fill the silence. I just watch out my window, filming the scenery. We go right through Bellvue and come out on an empty road south of town. It takes us past a lake on one side and a bunch of university buildings on the other. “Research stations,” Ford says, pointing to the buildings. “Horsetooth Reservoir,” he says, pointing to the lake.
A few miles later the stadium comes into view. We have to go past it and double back on another road to get there, but it really didn’t take that long. “Wow, there’s a lot of cars here. They must have quite the AM training program.”
“Homecoming weekend stuff,” he explains. “But we’ve got permission as long as we’re out by eight.”
“How do you get permission for all this, Ford?”
“Money,” he deadpans. Then he looks over at me and laughs. “How else?”
“You have to pay for us to run? Did you have to pay for me at Coors Field?”
He ignores me and pulls the Bronco up to a security guard at the parking lot entrance, then reaches into his jacket pocket and flashes two ID’s. The guard waves us through. “Money,” he says again, looking over at me this time. “And hacking skills.”
I’m not sure if he’s serious, so I leave it. Because I’m not interested in his hacking activities or anything else Ford does with Spencer and Ronin as part of their ‘business’.
I hide my camera under an old jacket that Ford hands me from the backseat and then we head over to the stadium entrance. We pass several more security checks. Each time Ford flashes those badges and each time we are waved forward. Ford seems to know where he’s going so I just follow. We come out in the stands, about halfway up, like we used to at Coors Field.
“OK,” Ford says once we get inside and choose a spot that’s not being used by other runners. “I will slow down for you. From now on, we run together. But I won’t slow all the way down, you need to meet me halfway. So you have to actually push yourself. No more slacking off.”
“Well, that’s no fun. I’m a moper, remember? I come to shuffle.”
“Your shuffling days are over, Rook. And I’m sick of your moping. From now on, you’re training with me. So keep up or I’ll find ways to make your life uncomfortable.”
“Ha! Like how?” I cross my arms in front of my chest in defiance and before I can even process what he’s doing, he leans forward into my personal space and slips his hand under my hair behind my neck, drawing me close to him. His touch affects me immediately and I flush with heat. I can probably count on two hands the number of times Ford has actually touched me, and most of them have happened in the past few days. His mouth dips down to my ear, his breath hot against my skin, and for a second I think my heart will actually stop from the shock of it all.
I swallow.
“Like this, Rook.” Ford’s soft words vibrate into me. “I like you. I’d like to show you how much, actually. I’m being a gentleman to make life easier for you, but believe me, it’s not really in my nature to be so accommodating. I typically just take what I want.”
A shudder erupts as his fingertips drag lightly across the back of my neck. He pulls away smiling. “So keep the fuck up or I’ll make things very confusing.”
And then he turns and takes off running up the stairs.
What the hell just happened?
But I don’t have time to think because he’s already halfway up this aisle. I follow, running hard for a second to try and catch up, but once I match him he slows a little so that I don’t have to exert myself too much. He continues to adjust our pace like this, running harder for ten or twenty seconds, then slowing down for a minute or
more.
And I realize something.
Ford knows me. He knows exactly what I’m capable of at my current fitness level. He recognizes the sound of my breathing when I’m getting winded, as well as the sound of it when I’m too comfortable.
He pushes me to do better and try harder in just the right way.
Not too fast, not too slow.
But just right.
We run this way for almost an hour. Much longer than we normally did at Coors Field. That was always thirty minutes or so. I’m starting to lag behind severely, and no amount of threatening me with uncomfortable sexual touching will make me keep up, so he slows to a walk. “We’ll do two sets like this, then we can be done.”
I wait for my hard breathing to slow and my heart rate to come back to normal and then I figure I have to say something. Because the entire run, all I thought about was how his hand felt on the back of my neck. “Are we playing again, Ford?”
“Playing what?”
“Are you gonna try and make a move on me? I thought we were friends?”
“I thought you said you trusted me to do what’s right for you?”
“Yeah, as a friend, I do! But that was before—” I’m not sure what the hell that was back there so I don’t even have a word ready to describe it. Ford doesn’t offer any help, in fact I can sorta see him smirking out of the corner of my eye. “I think you just came on to me.”
He laughs, then stops and stands in front of me, forcing me to look at him. “Believe me, Rook,” he says with a serious expression. “If I was coming on to you, you’d have no trouble recognizing it.” He turns and continues walking.
“So I should just—what? Ignore that exchange back there?”
“Just keep up in training, Rook. And you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
I stop and throw up my hands. “OK, I’m done then. I’m out.” I turn around and start walking down the stairs.
He follows and when he gets alongside me he jumps down several steps and cuts me off. He starts walking back up, which makes me almost fall, but he grabs my arm and then lets go when I’m steady again. “So that’s it?”
“What’s it?” I ask, annoyed.
“That’s your boundary? I can push you to run past your current endurance level just fine. You adjust and work harder without one complaint even though I doubled our running time and had you gasping for breath on four occasions. But when I push emotionally, you shut down and run away immediately. You know, I’m the guy who supposedly has no emotions, I’m the one who’s supposed to be incapable of feeling. I’m the one who doesn’t give a fuck about people. But you, Miss Corvus, are really giving me a run for my money. You want to play as long as you’re in control, right? You stare at my chest then freely admit you’re checking me out to compare to Spencer. So I might ask you the same question. What are you doing with me?”
“You said we were friends. I was joking about Spencer.”
“You spend time with me why, Rook? Because I’m your friend? Or because you like this game we’re playing? You say you love Ronin but you argue and rebel against all his good advice, yet you do almost everything I ask whenever I dangle the smallest carrot in front of your face. Why?”
“I just want you to be my friend.”
“That’s not an answer to my question. Answer the question.”
I get flustered for a second and don’t have anything to say. “Why do I like you? Is this what you’re asking? You need me to stroke your ego a bit, Ford?”
He laughs. “Hardly, Rook. I just want the truth from you.”
“I just need a friend. I want you to be my friend.”
“I am your friend.”
“But that back there was not what friends do, Ford. It did confuse me. I already have a boyfriend. We’re in love.”
“Yeah, a boyfriend who’s desperate for me to figure out what the fuck is going on inside that messed-up head of yours because he’s terrified you’ll walk out on him if he asks you himself.”
“What? You assholes are talking about me? He’s asking you for advice and you make a move on me?” I shake my head and start walking off again, but this time Ford grabs my wrist.
“Stop!” he commands.
I stop.
And then I realize what he just did and attempt to yank myself free. But each time I struggle he pulls me closer until I’m pressed against his chest, fighting off tears. He leans down again and whispers in my ear. “I was wrong about you, Rook.”
I swallow and look up at him, meeting his gaze.
“You’re not inexperienced, are you?”
My heart is ready to jack itself right out of my chest and I try my hardest to break free, but he holds me tight and close.
“You’re not inexperienced, you’re submissive. You just spent the last few years unconditionally following orders, didn’t you?”
“You have no idea—”
He grips my wrist hard enough to cut off my words and make me cry out. “I’m the guy who brought a pet to your birthday party, Rook. Don’t fucking tell me I have no idea.”
I turn off. That’s all I have left, I just turn off. I stop struggling as my eyes glaze over. I concentrate on a point out on the sidelines where a cheerleader is doing tumbling moves. A few of her friends join her and—
“Look at me.”
“Fuck you.”
He lets go of my wrist and I lower my head and count the seconds to see what he’s up to. When I get to ten and he has nothing to say, I jump down the stairs and head for the parking lot.
Chapter Sixteen - Rook
My face is hot and it takes all my willpower to prevent the tears from coming out with the anger and frustration. Ford is weird. I need to stop this. Ronin was right, he’s got emotional issues. Or lack of emotion issues, I’m not quite sure. Either way, I think I’m done with Ford. I reach the Bronco and yank on the door handle to get in and realize it’s locked.
Of course it’s locked, you idiot. Your eight-thousand-dollar camera is in there.
I lean against the door and watch Ford walk towards me across the parking lot. When he reaches me he says nothing, just pushes his key into the lock and then opens the door.
I climb in as he goes around to his side and does the same.
He sinks back into his seat and I turn my head and watch the various groups of people bustling around the stadium.
“You ran.”
I shake my head. “I’m done here and I’d like for you to start the fucking truck and drop me off at Spencer’s.”
He lets out a sigh. “Too far, then?”
I look over at him now. His face is expressionless, just passive, like this isn’t some monumentally fucked-up moment in time for me. “So you’re fucking with me? Is that it, Ford? Your job here is to rip apart my brain and do what? Use me up and spit me out like the rest of your pets? Am I a pet to you? Your project? You know what’s fucking funny? You say Ronin’s the one with the hero complex, but from what I can tell, that’s you, Ford. Ronin doesn’t fuck with me like this, he just accepts me for what I am.”
He laughs. “Is that right? Do you have any idea what Ronin does in our little partnership?”
“I do not give one fancy fuck about Ronin’s part in what you guys do together.”
Ford looks away and sighs. “I’m sorry, then, OK?” He looks back over at me and waits a few seconds to see if I’ll respond. But I keep silent. “I didn’t realize it would affect you like that, OK? I’m sorry.”
I continue to stare out the window. “Whatever. You know exactly what you were doing, so save it. Just take me home.”
“Rook, I swear, it was a little harmless flirt, that’s all. I didn’t realize you’d get all…” He stops. “Well, I don’t really understand what happened, actually. Do you like me? Like that?”
Oh, my God. I am so completely fucking humiliated. “Just take me home.”
I catch him scrubbing his hand down his face from the corner of my eye, like I’m frustrating him. “
OK, I’ll start then. How’s that? Because I really didn’t mean to have this conversation with you, like ever. But since I’ve unleashed it—maybe unconsciously, maybe not—I’ll just say it.”
Holy fucking shit, he’s gonna go there.
“I want you. I have it pretty bad, in fact. I knew the fucking moment I saw you come into Antoine’s office that day we went out to dinner. I went out of my way to make sure you were sitting next to me. And you, you… you just… there was just something about you that drew me in. I had no idea what it was. At least back then.” He stops and swallows and then looks over at me and stares hard, straight in my eyes. “But I do now. I know what it is that draws us together and I think you do too.”
“I’m not talking about this.”
He ignores me and continues. “I’d never make you cheat on Ronin, Rook. I’m not like that at all.”
“Take me home.”
“But you’d make my year if you admitted to me that you feel this too.”
“Oh. My. God! Shut the fuck up and take me home!” I shout it and I expect some reaction to this lapse in emotional control, but a laugh isn’t quite it. “Why are you laughing?”
“You do like me, don’t you? Enough to leave Ronin? Not that I’m asking,” he adds hurriedly. “I’m not asking you to do that, OK. I’m just—”
“You’re just playing with me, right? You think you’ve guessed something about my past and that gives you the right to mess with me? Play concerned friend, take me running and then flirt and make me uncomfortable. Get me to spill my guts and then stomp all over my feelings and rub it all in. That’s what you’re doing, right?”
“Rub all what in, Rook?” he asks, confused.
“The fact that you could dangle that teeny-tiny carrot in front of me and I’d jump.”
“Do you like me?”
“Of course I like you. Why else would I spend so much fucking time with you?”
“Do you want me?”
I take a second to think this through because this question is much harder to answer.
“Do you, Rook?”