by Toni Aleo
“Yes,” I say simply, and she rolls her eyes.
“No, really. She isn’t into you.”
Why does she keep saying it like it’s no big deal? I narrow my eyes because this just doesn’t seem right to me. First time in forever I’m into a girl, and she isn’t into me? That can’t be right, nor is it fair.
Life isn’t fair, buddy. It’ll knock you on your ass faster than a two-hundred-pound defensemen will.
Thanks, Dad.
But even with my dad’s words of wisdom, I feel my sister should have my back a bit more. Setting her with a stern look, I say, “And you told her I’m an awesome dude. Very charming. Funny. You know I’m funny!” She shrugs a bit, not seeming convinced as I glare. “You can tell her I’m great in bed. You wouldn’t be lying.”
She glares at me then. “I just swallowed back puke. Thanks.” She shakes her head as she pats her body as if she is looking for something. “Where is my phone? I need to tell Shelli you just said that.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop, seriously. Did you talk me up?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“What the hell? Why not?” I ask, completely confused. “You’re supposed to be my sister.”
“Which is why I told you what was up. You’re lucky I did that.”
“How in the hell am I lucky if you aren’t pushing for me?” I ask, and she shrugs.
“It’s not my job to hook you up, Ry. You’re a grown man.”
I don’t think I can kill my sister. That would upset my mom.
“But the real question is, will you still introduce me to Moon since I tried?”
Is she on something? “Oh yeah, sure, no problem,” I say, and when her eyes light up, I glare. “As soon as I get a chance…which will be never!” I yell, and she purses her lips at me, annoyed. But guess what? I’m annoyed for both of us. I’m not saying I need my sister to hook me up. I don’t. But it would be nice if she talked me up a bit. Usually, her friends just want me, and then I have to make excuse after excuse why I can’t see them after I sleep with them. I’m not trying to sound cocky, but what the hell?
“Well, you’re an asshole.”
“Right back at you,” I snap.
“Whatever. Why are you still here?”
“Fuck, I don’t know,” I say, but when I turn to go, she tries to grab the food I’m holding. “No food for you.”
“What the hell? You the food nazi now?”
“I am when you can’t talk up your own brother. I would do it for you.”
“You would not!”
“I would if I wanted to.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to.”
“Ha, I knew it! You should want to. I do everything for you.”
“Get over yourself, Ryan.” She rolls her eyes and walks over to Sofia.
Man, I really had every intention of walking into this place, lunch in hand, introducing myself, telling Sofia how amazing I thought she was yesterday, and having her falling all over herself to get with me. Along with my charm, I brought a bacon cheeseburger, which is crack to gymnasts. They’re hungry all the time.
I thought I had this in the bag. Damn it.
I turn, ready to go, but I’m truly stunned in place. I don’t know if it’s my pride or what, but I’m having a hard time accepting this. I know when a girl is feeling me. Man, I feel like I need to throw on my gear and go slam someone into the boards. Beat my chest. Go make a booty call on some other chick. But that doesn’t seem right either.
I want her.
Sofia.
Shit.
Right before I can move, Sofia glances at me as she walks by. Her dark gaze meets mine, and my heart stops. I’m close enough that I can see her dark eyes have a small green tint to them. I thought they were deep brown, but they’re more a dark hazel. Her lashes are so thick, dark, but it’s the sweet freckles covering her nose and cheeks that have me wanting to embarrass myself completely.
Because now, I definitely feel the sparks.
I see them.
I hear them.
Or maybe that’s my heart.
And looking at her, I know she sees, hears, and feels them too. Breathless, I hold my gaze on her as she draws in a deep breath, her breasts rising with the motion. I doubt she wants me to see it, but her lips quirk in the smallest, sexiest way before she looks back to my sister.
One thing is for sure.
She wants me.
She’s just fighting it.
I’m still in this. I chuckle to myself as I start to walk backward. I’m onto her, and that’s fine.
Game on.
Chapter Ten
Sofia
It has been twenty-one hours since I tried not to watch Ryan leave the gym.
Twenty-one hours of trying my hardest not to think of everything about him.
His amazing shoulders.
His lean waist.
His long legs.
Those lips…
And those eyes… Crap.
Even those damn glasses that make me want to knock them off his face in the middle of rough kisses.
Also, twenty-one hours of ignoring the fact that I want to hug him, nuzzle my nose in the middle of that thick chest of his, and feel his hands on me.
Basically, I’ve spent the last twenty-one hours torturing myself with my feelings, and now I’m running. Running out my frustration for wanting some guy who would probably ruin everything for me, and running to kill off the nerves about my mom. One would say I’m a hot mess, and I wouldn’t disagree with them. I feel a mess.
The only good thing from yesterday was that Amelia got us the job. Her mom was more than happy to help me out and insisted, like Amelia said she would, my mom stay with her. She even offered to buy the plane ticket for me in advance, but I refused very quickly. I don’t want to owe anyone anything. It’s killing me knowing someone is basically paying my way and giving me everything I need because I’m good at gymnastics.
But then, isn’t that what I worked for?
No. Actually, it’s not. I worked for the Olympics, but that dream went up in smoke very quickly.
But now is not the time to dwell on that.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I continue my run around campus. The Bellevue campus is amazing. The design of it was one of the many things that appealed to me. It’s like a compound with everything you need: housing, food, a store, and then, the halls of education. But around the perimeter, through some woods, is an awesome running track. Usually, it’s meant for the track team, but I was told four a.m. was a good time to run since no one was out here.
And I love it.
I don’t love running, and I don’t trust people who do like running. Sadistic people, in my opinion. But since I have to run, I love this track. It’s way better than the one in Nevada for sure, very flat and good for my knee. In Nevada, I stayed on the treadmill for the simple fact that everything was bumpy and dusty. My knee couldn’t handle the terrain, but here, I’m doing well. Been running this track for three months now, and I enjoy it.
As much as someone who hates running can enjoy it.
I wish I could get Amelia out of bed to run with me, but I’m pretty sure that girl does two things—no, wait, three things. Sleep, obsess over boys, and gymnastics. How she is carrying a 4.0 is beyond me. She doesn’t study or even stress about papers or anything. She is just insanely smart, and it frustrates me. I have to work for my grades, unlike gymnastics. In a way, we’re like yin and yang, which is funny I guess, since we are so different but the same. Man, do I love her dearly.
And then there is her undeniably hot brother, whom I blew off.
I should be proud of that, apparently. From what Amelia says, no one turns down her brother, and I can see why. He is stunning and charismatic. That quick grin, those eyes, and then his big ol’ hands… Yeah, I need to stay very clear of Ryan Justice. Very, very clear. But I’m unsure how to do that. He and Amelia seem very close, even though yesterday I thought they were two second
s away from tearing each other apart. He did not want to accept that I didn’t want anything to do with him. It was kind of hot how resistant he was to Amelia’s words. He didn’t believe them, which made me nervous. If he asked me, I don’t know if I could lie. Especially under that blue gaze of his, his thick body towering over me. I have a feeling my body would betray me.
Stupid body.
It lets me down a lot.
Shaking my head, I run a little faster, trying to burn off these crazy, lusty feelings. I’ve been trying that for the last hour, and I don’t think it’s working. It’s completely unfair. Problem is, I want to know more about him. I know if I ask Amelia though, she’ll know he does actually intrigue me, and she’ll push for me to get to know him.
So she can get to know Moon.
I laugh to myself. She’s so funny. She follows Moon on all the social media, and she told me she’s going to talk to him the next chance she gets, but I don’t think I believe her. Her ex-boyfriend, Drew, has been calling a lot, and I don’t think she’s over him, as much as she desperately wants to be. Not that I would ever say that. Isn’t my business, but in my opinion, she is still very much in love with him, which could pose a problem with Mr. Moon. I don’t think Moon is even thinking of her, but then, he is following her back. I wonder what Ryan would think of that. He seems very protective.
Which is oh so hot.
I’m burning all over, which I blame on my run, not the fact that I can picture Ryan physically taking out Moon at the mere thought of him touching his sister.
He’s just so burly.
And sexy.
Rawr.
I don’t even know who I am right now. I don’t lust over guys. I don’t. I don’t have time. But it took only one glance at Ryan to know I could lust over him for months. Which, I’ve already acknowledged, is very, very bad. So bad. Yet, here I am, running and lusting.
Not the best combination.
I’m not gonna make it. I’ve gotta get him out of my head before I hurt myself.
Coming out of the wooded area of mile five, I round Morehead Hall, where all the English classes are held, mine included, and I see two guys running ahead of me. They’re slow, like me, their teal shirts soaked with sweat over their short shorts. I’m a little taken aback. I haven’t seen anyone on this track since I started running here, and believe me, I would have noticed these two. The hammies on the guy on the right, who is wearing a black and teal hat, are downright mouthwatering. His shorts are so damn short, I’m curious how he keeps his dick in there. The other guy, no hat, is a little skinny, but he has great shoulders. They’re talking, pointing toward the left, but since I have headphones on, I can’t hear what they’re saying before the guy on the left runs off the track, heading toward the Starbucks, while the other guy keeps running.
I stay far behind him, no intention of running ahead since my shorts are up my ass at this particular moment. Since I haven’t seen anyone on the track in months, I don’t really dress for company, I dress for comfort. While I don’t mind watching this guy, I’m hoping he doesn’t see me.
But I sure see him.
Man.
As Lorde sings about homemade dynamite, I admire the guy’s shoulders and his arms. He runs very fluidly. As someone who has spent her whole life in a gym, I admire a good-looking body. But I’m pretty sure he’s one of those guys who likes to run.
I don’t trust those guys.
Shit, who am I kidding? I don’t trust any guys.
A smirk tugs at my lips as I drink him in. But when he pulls at the bottom of his tee before lifting it up and over his chest, my tongue promptly falls out of my mouth. I’m surprised I don’t misstep and fall to my death, because now I can see everything the shirt was hiding. The muscles in his back are criminal, thick and hard, moving with his body as he runs. His shoulders are so wide and are made for someone to dig their nails into like they do in those historical romance novels my mom keeps on her bedside table. But that isn’t what has me squinting or running a little faster to get closer. He has a tattoo on his shoulder that I’m having a hard time reading. Because I’m ridiculous, I have to know what it says.
With each step I take, the distance between us gets shorter and shorter, and soon the seven letters are clear.
Justice.
And this time, I do make a misstep.
The toe of one of my shoes hits the back of my other sneaker, and as I fall, a blood-curdling cry leaves my lips. I hit the pavement hard. Pain radiates up my legs, and I realize I’ve been lusting over Ryan Justice. Which goes completely against staying very, very clear of him. It all happens so fast, but then, much to my dismay, he is towering over me, bending down to help. His giant hands come toward me while his eyes fill with such beautiful concern.
Yup, this is not staying clear.
Not in the least.
He’s talking, but I can’t hear him. Knocking out my earbuds, I hiss out a breath as I roll to my back, moving very tentatively.
“Go slow. I heard your fall all the way up there.”
I want to yell. Scream. Tell him to go away, but instead, I say, “Was it my body hitting the ground or my battle cry?”
“Totally the battle cry,” he says, his lips curving, but then his smile drops when I hiss out another breath. “Shit, are you okay?”
“I think so,” I say, trying to assess the damage. “I think I just scraped myself up good.”
“Yeah, you did,” he says, using his shirt to wipe up the blood that is dripping from my knee. “Damn, that’s a gnarly scar.”
I look where he has just finished wiping, but I don’t really need to. I know the scar that’s visible there. It’s been my buddy for many years. “Yeah, tore my ACL and then broke my knee six months later.”
“Fuck.” He draws up, patting my knee to make the bleeding stop. “I’ve only torn mine.”
“You were probably smarter than me and didn’t try to land a double tuck backflip with three full twists as soon as the doctor said you can ‘ease’ back into the gym.”
He holds out his other hand, his lips pressing together. This close, I can see that his bottom lip is thicker, like a bee stung it—but in a sexy way, not like an allergic reaction or something.
What the hell?
“No, I only went for a tuck and one twist. Should have pushed myself.”
My lips curve, and then I’m giggling as he stands up, holding his hand out to me. “The Bullies’ house is right up here. We have a first aid kit in the kitchen. Want me to carry you?” I give him a look, and he laughs. “Who am I kidding? You could have broken your leg, and you’d drag it to the house.”
I nod. “Or I’d call an ambulance.”
He points to me. “And you say I’m smarter than you.”
Fighting back my grin, I do take his hands though, probably against my better judgment, and he pulls me up with ease. Like I weigh nothing. I know how much I weigh; I throw my body around. I’m not light as a feather, but he didn’t even grimace.
He’s just grinning.
And boy, is it breathtaking.
“Come on, I’ll get you cleaned up. I’m good at it. Nursed my own injuries and Amelia’s, along with our cousins’.”
He walks slowly beside me, his hand out behind me but not touching me. The pain isn’t bad. I’ve had worse, but it is annoying. He puts his hand on my arm. “Wait, blood is going everywhere.”
I pause, and he bends down, wrapping his shirt around my knee. When he stands, he nods at his handiwork. “Not the first time you’ve done that?” I ask.
He shakes his head, laughter leaving his lips. “No. One time, we were camping, and my crazy cousin Quinn jumped off this rock and landed funky as hell. Snapped his leg. I made a splint out of sticks. Thank you, Boy Scouts.”
“Boy Scouts, huh?”
He flashes me a grin. “Yeah, but don’t be impressed. I’ve forgotten how to survive in the wild. Can’t start a fire for shit, and I sure as hell would die if I was thirsty ’cause I�
�m not waiting to boil water. Wow, maybe I shouldn’t advertise the Boy Scout thing. Hi, I play hockey.”
I’m grinning. Like a fool. Damn it. “I know.”
“But I can bandage people up.”
“I mean, I feel you’re winning. Most people wouldn’t have stopped their run.”
“Well, since I hate running and I have this amazing background in first aid, I can save pretty girls who fall running.”
I narrow my eyes, and I ignore the fact that he hates running. “I didn’t fall. I tripped.”
“Oh, my bad.” His face is bright, his cheeks red and his eyes so dark. “Gorgeous girls who trip while running. I’m qualified to save them.”
My heart skips a beat, and my gut does a stupid girly twist as I look away. “That’s still up for debate.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I take a deep breath, and I hate myself for chancing a glance at him. He’s watching me, and he still has his hand out, ready to catch me if I fall. I almost want to test him, but I know that would be a terrible idea. His shoulders are even more massive from where I am standing. He’s dripping with sweat, and I’d thought those eyes of his were brighter with glasses on, but I don’t think it matters. They’re just as heavenly a blue all the time even without the dark rims.
Which is so damn bad.
“Do you always run in the mornings?”
I look away. “I have been. Why are you out? No one is ever out at this time.”
“I have practice at five and then classes at seven. I don’t want to miss my cardio time.”
“Oh. That’s early.”
“I could say the same to you. Why are you out?”
“My days start early. I want to hit the gym before my classes so I don’t have to work out in the afternoons and I can just train.”
“Smart.”
“I tried to get Amelia to come—”
I pause at his laughter. “She doesn’t run.”
“I’ve realized that, but I told her it’s good for her.”
“Oh, you can tell her that all day. I’ve been trying to get her to suffer with me for years. She won’t do it. She probably doesn’t need to either. She’s so fit.”