by Trisha Wolfe
“Liar,” he calls me out.
I laugh and step off the treadmill. “Yeah, okay. I was a little pissed that day.”
He pinches his fingers together closely. “Just a little.”
“I was livid, all right? And…” I trail off, bending over to pick up my towel and also avoid his eyes. “You called me a bitch before. So I just knew….” I shrug. “You weren’t done tormenting me yet.”
He’s silent, and I use the awkward moment to wipe my forehead. Thankful I took my makeup off before I got here. What’s worse than being seen without makeup? Being seen with it bleeding and bubbling all over your face.
“Ari…”
My spine stiffens at his inflective tone. “I didn’t mean anything, Ryder. Whatever. No big deal.”
When he speaks again, he’s closer. I can almost feel his body against mine, like electricity crackling off a powerful conductor. “I didn’t mean it. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s just something dumb-ass guys say when they’re mad. Or upset. Or scared.” I turn to see him lacing his arms over his chest. “It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. Anger is our go-to reaction for every emotion.”
I nod. “All right. Well, sorry I threw beer in your face and outed to the whole school that you’d never claim me among your conquests.”
His mouth presses into a tight line. I hear his hard exhale. “You think that really matters to me? What they think?” He moves closer still. “That I’m really some cliché jock who cares about his rep?”
I force myself to be honest right back. “Well, yeah.”
“Ouch.”
“Look, it’s not meant as criticism.” I take a step back, needing to put more space between us so I can think. “That’s a lot of guys. Most guys, actually.”
He chuckles. “Damn, that’s even worse. You think I’m most guys.”
“This isn’t going anywhere, Ryder. We’re talking circles around each other—”
“Yeah, but we are talking.” He cocks an eyebrow, his feet eating the distance between us quickly. My breath stutters hot against my lips as I try to breathe normally. “That’s the only way to get from point A to point B.”
My head tilts. “See, again with the conquest. Like I’m something to be conquered.”
“No…I didn’t… Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just can’t articulate around you. Everything comes out…wrong. Just wrong. Be patient, okay? I obviously need a little leniency here.”
Despite my unease, I feel a smile tug at my mouth. “Fair enough.” I wave my hand through the air, prompting him on. “Take your time.”
With a determined nod, that’s so sincere it’s adorable, making my chest stir with heat, he says, “Give me a do-over.”
“Huh?”
He chuckles. “I completely botched that first encounter. And I know that you don’t get any take-backs…but I’d like a shot to prove I’m not the scum you think I am.”
Is he asking me on a date? “Like, a date?” Did I just blurt that? Crap.
He simply nods. “It’s a date, then. When?”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“You didn’t immediately say no.”
God. I glance around, as if someone or something will suddenly appear and save me. I feel trapped, but it’s not at all…bad. I just don’t know if I can handle him. My willpower is fading too fast.
“Um, let me think about it,” I say, starting to back away toward my bag.
“I’ll take it.”
Before I leave, I look back at Ryder once. Just to take a mental snapshot of him bench-pressing the weights; arms taut and corded hard, legs spread on the bench, face gorgeous even as he strains. Wow, but I’ll regret this. I never learn.
12
Ryder
Coach Carson busted my balls all during practice. Although I don’t blame him—my head wasn’t in it, my arm not accepting orders from my brain—it’s put me in an off mood.
I’m not so vain as to think I don’t deserve a good ass-chewing from my coach now and then. Shit, I get it more than others most days, because I’m expected to keep on top, stay in shape. But I’m still below my weight goal, and having little feisty Ari on my mind doesn’t help there. I’m like some dumb teen punk, my stomach knotted whenever she’s near. Which is a lot lately.
Besides suddenly seeing her in the halls near my classes, she’s a booster. At all the major events, meetings, and get-togethers for the team. And she still eats lunch in the cafeteria. I think I’ve developed a crick in my neck from the strain of keeping my head from turning in her direction. I can feel her presence humming, reaching out to me, beckoning me to approach. But whenever I give in and look her way¸ a scowl mars the flawless, smooth skin between her eyebrows.
Shot down. Again.
I thought we were making progress at the gym. That finally telling her I wasn’t the asshat who fucked with her car would get me some major points. But I realize I’m still the asshat who’s QB of the football team who did fuck with her. So there’s that.
And the fact that she just doesn’t want anything to do with me. I actually became delusional, thinking, hell, she took the time to one-up me when she thought I was the jerk pranking her. That had to be some kind of twisted love/hate foreplay. But she just wanted us to stop messing with her.
Fair enough.
None of the guys have bothered her since. What’s more, they don’t make crude comments, which is good, because if Devon or Beck said one more thing about her cute ass, I was going to run my fist through their faces.
I pass my second period lecture hall, heading toward the lunchroom, my mind spinning. If Ari did accept us going out, what would that mean? Am I seriously thinking about dating her exclusively? I haven’t been that way with any girl for a long time. Who am I joking? I’ve never been that way with any girl. Haven’t been around anyone to really make me consider it for a long damn time.
Would I have noticed her if she hadn’t reminded me of the girl I did once seriously consider? I’m not sure, and that’s kind of twisted. Then there’s the other shit that goes along with getting intimate with someone. The revealing of yourself, baring your soul…all those buried skeletons creeping out to ruin anything that might be good.
And I think that’s the biggest reason right there why I never bothered. I have too much family drama for any girl to want to get involved with me seriously. Luckily, over the years, people have let it die. And I’ve worked hard to create my own rep.
It’s not really a secret…but most people don’t bring it up anymore. Anyone who knows better—and that’s everyone—knows it’s a taboo topic. I’m the only one who continues to torture myself over what happened.
Pushing the unwelcome thoughts aside, I try to decide just what the hell I’m doing with Ari. She doesn’t seem like the type to want to be fuck buddies. Just thinking that makes my chest ache in a dumb way. I mean shit, not that I haven’t thought about it—with her layers of clothes always concealing everything from the imagination. I know there’s a hot body buried beneath, just waiting to be explored. I’d love to discover what turns her on, and do it over and over until she’s dropped all her defenses. Clawing at my back and begging me not to stop.
Fuck. My heart is ramped, kicking my chest wall. I’ve never tortured myself like this over any girl here. I was almost free and clear and out. Safe. I should’ve known my past would come back to haunt me. And in the form of my previous tormentor. Karma’s a bitch.
I’m not getting out of here without paying my dues.
Like always, I notice Ari sitting with Vanessa and the other girl Haley. I’ve moved up to stalker status, having asked around until I discovered her main crew.
And as if on cue, I see her physically stiffen, like she senses me. At least I know I do affect her—just not sure in what way. Good or bad. But I guess a guy has to use what he’s got. I pivot, leaving Gavin staring questioningly after me, and head straight for Ari’s table.
I’ve figured out Nic
e Guy doesn’t do it for her, so maybe bringing back Bold Asshole will work more in my favor. Just this time, with no throwing her over my shoulder. Maybe.
I pull out a chair and sit right beside her. The other two girls at the table stare openly at me, eyes wide, while Ari continues to cut the crust from her dry toast.
“So, I was thinking,” I say, scooting my chair closer to her, “that I’ve given you enough time to think it through. I’m not a patient guy, and I’m definitely not patient when I want something badly.”
I watch as she licks her lips, concentrating hard on that toast. Shit, I could get lost staring at that pouty mouth. Blinking hard once, I force my gaze up, trying to make eye contact.
She sets the plastic knife down and rolls her shoulders back. “If I haven’t, or if the answer’s no, is the team going to do a panty raid next?”
Her friends smile, and one of them—Haley—says, “Maybe we should go get some chocolate.”
“Whatever, this is getting—oomph!” Vanessa grabs her side, where I just witnessed Haley elbow her. Meeting my gaze, Vanessa says, “Right. We’re gone. Be good to our girl.” Then she and Haley remove themselves from the table.
“Traitors,” Ari says under her breath.
A light chuckle slips from my mouth. “So. How about it?” I duck my head, attempting to capture her gaze. Finally, she looks at me. And those big amber eyes ensnare me. “Like, an old school date where I pick you up and take you somewhere nice. I have this event thing…uh. It’s not really a big deal, but I kind of need a date.”
Her face screws up. “So that’s it. You need a date, and what, all the Ryder groupies are otherwise unavailable?”
I exhale a heavy breath. Do I just speak Greek to her? Does nothing I say come out the way I plan it in my head? “That’s not it, Ari. I’d rather not go to this thing, but I figure it’s a nice, classy place, and it will be public.” I have the sudden desire to reach out and take her hand; I ball mine into a fist near my thigh. “Lots of people. No worries of me trying to get you alone…or anything.”
I swear, I see her face flush. Her gaze flicks to the table. “I’ll think about it,” she says.
“No time.” I duck my head again to pull her gaze to me. “It’s tonight.”
She laughs. “You want me to give you an answer now?” Her lips spread into an easy smile, making my chest tighten. “You do realize I’m a woman, right?”
“I may have taken note of that, yes.” My smile is so wide, my cheeks ache.
“And it takes like, just a little time for a woman to figure out the fine necessities of what to wear…especially to an event. Get her hair did, nails done, not eat bloaty foods for the whole day beforehand—”
“You look perfect. Wear whatever’s in your closet. And if you don’t have anything, which I seriously doubt—” I look over her nice, soft pink sweater and expensive black slacks “—then I’ll take you shopping first.”
Her full lips turn down at the corners. For a second, I think I’ve said the wrong thing, but then she shakes her head lightly, her loose curls spilling around her shoulders. “You’ve got this all worked out, don’t you?”
I nod once. “I do. Any way you try to get out of it, any excuse you throw at me, I have a counter offer. Just say yes and end my torment.” And I’m only half joking. If she continues to shoot me down, I might start to seriously question my sanity.
She sighs, long and deep, and the sultry sound of it slides over my skin. I’d love to hear what sound she makes while…
“All right.”
My thoughts rebound. “All right?”
She laughs. “If this turns out to be some joke at my expense—”
“I’d never,” I say, cutting her off from that train of thought. “Cross my heart.” I run my finger over my chest, literally crossing my heart.
Her head tilts to the side, her teeth biting at her bottom lip, which does something agonizing to me, as she considers this. “Deal. One date. What time?”
I clap my hands together. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Oh—” I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. “Your number.” I glance up to witness her pinched brows. The cute little line between them. I want to run my thumb down it, smooth away the frown. “I may need to call you at some point.”
With a resigned nod, she brings out her own phone. “What’s yours?” She punches in the numbers as I recite them off. Then my phone beeps with a text message.
I smile down at the message on the screen: A new number for your little black book.
As I look up at her, the urge to touch her barrels through me with alarming force. I distract my hands by slipping my phone in my pocket, pulling my gaze away from her. I take note of Gavin and Laney watching me. Haley and Vanessa standing near the vending machines, sneaking glances our way. Actually, we’ve captured most of the lunchroom’s attention.
And I’m not the only one who notices. Ari’s shoulders tense as she peeks up from her phone. She doesn’t like the attention, and I can’t say that I blame her. I’ve learned to deal with it, ignore it, for the most part. But this girl, who I’ve come to understand is pretty shy, probably can’t brush it off as easily.
“Hey,” I say, and she flinches, as if she forgot I was here. “It’s me, not you.”
She looks at me. “What?”
Subtly, I nod toward the room over her shoulder. “They’re all watching me. Not you, okay? So just ignore them.” Then, because I can’t stand it one second longer, I reach out under the table to lay my hand on her knee, squeeze reassuringly.
The delicate column of her throat bobs. “I don’t like attention.”
“I know.” I keep my hand on her for as long as she allows me. “It’s not like this everywhere. They’re just nosy bastards.”
This draws a throaty laugh from her. My guts unclench. I didn’t even realize how tense I was until this second. Worried she’d change her mind—that the QB status shit already scared her off.
“I can do that,” she says. “Ignore it. I mean, it’s the same thing in my family. My father gets a lot of attention, and I’ve learned to shrink into the background.” She shrugs.
Hell no. That’s not what I want, either. For this woman to be some wallflower around me. This sudden knowledge, an insight into her world, grips me with acute force. “Don’t do that,” I say.
Her eyebrows rise.
“Don’t downplay yourself for anyone.”
Her gaze holds mine, unblinking, amber eyes intense. And I want to say more—to tell her something else to make her keep looking at me like this. Like I’m someone to her. It’s so intense, and happens so quickly, a trickle of fear skates down my spine.
I cough to clear my throat, effectively breaking the moment between us. I’m a coward.
“Tonight. Eight,” I say.
“Right.” She nods. “You better go. I think Vee and Haley are sick of standing around.”
I give her a wink before I take off toward my own table. I’ve missed lunch, which my stomach will punish me for later, but it’s a small price to pay for getting the girl of my daily torment to alleviate my suffering.
I give Gavin a quick wave as I pass by. “I’m heading to class early. Have makeup work.”
“Dude!” He’s on his feet. “That’s wrong, man. I want details later. Did you talk to her about the—” He stops short and looks around. “The underwear shit?” he hisses in my direction.
I chuckle, just giving him another wave. “Later.”
I hear his loud, annoyed groan as I breeze past. A full smile breaks across my face.
I promised the guys that I’d have a “word” with Ari. Offering her their apologies and in return getting her to drop her attack. It’s not that they’re afraid of a girl—though I don’t doubt some of them are—but rather they understand that I’ll make them follow through with whatever punishment she dishes out.
But I don’t feel like assuaging Gavin’s panic at the moment. I’ve had writer’s block for the past c
ouple of weeks, Professor Collins telling me to “dig deeper” and write through the block. Find something that resonates.
And today, now, I have the overpowering urge to get down the ideas filling my head. It’s like they’re going to split my skull if I don’t let them out. I thought for a long time that the story would be about my father. And football. Football and my dad and my life flitting between the both. Some kind of memoir I’d dedicate to him. Well, after I finished with the pros. But that story never actually took root. Me feeling like I somehow failed my dad all over again.
Because in the end, I think, the story has to be mine. And though football covers one aspect of my life—a huge one—it’s not the whole of me.
With a sideways glance, I spot Ari scrolling through her phone, her friends talking around her. A quick realization flickers above the many thoughts crowding my head.
I want to tell a different story. Maybe even live it.
As I head down the hallway toward my writing class, hesitance and resignation slow my steps. I’m not really in a hurry to get there any more.
I never thought I’d fear actually figuring it out—because ultimately, I’d just keep plodding along, the dream of what I’d do after football always just out of reach. Too far away. And I was fine with that. Until now.
13
Ari
“Oh, crap.” I’m throwing clothes around the room, angry with myself for being so out of it lately, for forgetting.
“Ari, just relax.” Vee plunks down on her bed and proceeds to peel a layer from her cinnamon roll and pop it into her mouth. My belly twists, a queasiness coating my stomach lining.
I haven’t eaten anything since lunch—and even then, I pushed aside my tray after Ryder’s invasion, having only taken a few bites of dry salad and toast. Subconsciously, I was aware of tonight, my body on high alert, even if my brain wasn’t keeping up.
“Ugh, where is it?” I’m practically growling. “I can’t believe I forgot about tonight. Why didn’t Becca call me, like she always does? She never misses a beat to wear me out.” I straighten my back and drop the hamper to the floor. Giving up, utterly. “It’s like she did it on purpose.”