Rush

by Samantha Towle

  He frowns back at me. “I’m not. I’m doing it for my sister.”

  “Well, I let you off the hook. You can go home.” I gesture toward the street.

  He follows the direction of my hand, like he’s actually considering it. Then, he looks back at me and shakes his head. “No can do. If Missy finds out I left you here, there’ll be hell to pay. And I could really do without having my ear bent by her.”

  “Don’t worry; I won’t tell her you didn’t stay. And you won’t tell her. So, there you go. You’re free to leave.” I let my hands go wide.

  He lets out a low laugh. “My sister will question me to the tenth degree about the movie when she gets home. She’ll know instantly if I haven’t seen it.”

  “Wikipedia. You can get the whole plot on there. There you go.”

  “Missy can smell a lie at fifty paces. She’s like a sniffer dog for bullshit. Seems like we’re stuck with each other for the next few hours.”

  “No, we’re really not. Just because you promised your sister you’d stay doesn’t mean I have to go along with it.”

  He laughs again, eyes widening with humor. “You really don’t want me here, do you?” His hand slaps his chest. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, Jailbird.”

  “Good,” I bite. “And why the hell would I want you here? You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me since the moment I met you.”

  “Well, not the moment I met you…” He grins, his eyes brightening, reminding me of my semi-naked bent-over moment, and I snap.

  “Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve said, the second you realized who I was. So, please, excuse me if I don’t want to spend my evening with a judgmental, bigoted asshole who can’t see past the end of his own so-called perfection to understand other people and their problems!”

  When I break off, I’m breathing a little harder, and his face is blank.

  “I never said I was perfect.”

  I let out a humorless laugh. “Whatever. Just…what-the-fuck-ever. Good-bye, Ares.”

  I spin on my heel and stomp into the theater.

  It’s not until I reach the queue for tickets when I realize that he’s standing right behind me.

  For fuck’s sake!

  “Stop following me,” I hiss at him.

  “I’m not.” He gives me a look of innocence, shoulders lifting. “I’m just going to watch the movie.”

  “The movie you don’t want to watch.”

  His lips widen into a grin.

  “God, you’re such a jackass! Just go away and leave me alone, please.”

  My voice hitches on the word please, and afraid I might burst into tears or punch him in his handsome, arrogant face, I turn around, moving forward, as the queue shifts.

  A moment later, I feel heat at my back and almost jump out of my skin when I feel his hot breath against my ear.

  “Now, now, Jailbird, there’s no need to be so bitchy.”

  I almost bite my tongue off at that. I turn my head to him to tell him to fuck off, but I misjudge how close he actually is. My nose bumps his, our lips literally centimeters apart.

  My breath catches. My body freezes. My nose floods with his scent. Woodsy-scented aftershave and the smell of mint on his breath.

  Every feminine part of me comes to life. It’s like my body is suddenly wide awake after a long stretch of being dormant and is saying, Well, hello there, man with a penis. It’s been a while. Wanna come play?

  I hear him suck in a breath, and his eyes flicker down to my lips.

  I lick them without conscious thought, and his eyes ignite with fire, causing a tightening in my lower belly.

  Jesus.

  I exhale a ragged breath. His eyes lift to mine.

  “You want to kiss me, Jailbird?” he whispers and inches closer. So close that I feel his lips brush mine when he talks again. “Yeah…” he breathes out. “That’s never going to happen.”

  Everything good I was feeling inside dies. My face stings with embarrassment.

  I straighten up, arms crossing over my chest. “I know it wouldn’t because I would rather kiss herpes than you, you arrogant prick.”

  “God, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

  He smirks, and I give him the middle finger.

  I face forward and walk straight toward the now-open ticket booth, ignoring the rumble of laughter behind me.

  “One to see The Greatest Showman, please,” I say to the girl at the counter.

  I pay for my ticket and walk straight in the direction of the food, not giving him a backward glance.

  After buying a large tub of popcorn and a soda with no more sightings of Ares, hopefully meaning he got the message and left, I head into the theater.

  There are a few people already seated. I wander down and take a seat in the middle of the theater, a couple in from the end of the aisle.

  I put my soda in the cupholder and my popcorn on the ground by my feet while I dig my glasses out of my bag.

  I need them for reading and watching TV. I mostly forget to wear them, but I need them for the movies, as the screen is bright and big, and I’ll get a headache if I don’t use them.

  I slide them on, pick my popcorn up, and sit upright. Just as someone takes the seat right next to me.

  Ares.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I hiss at him. “Go away!”

  “Can’t.” He shrugs. “I made a promise to my sister, and I don’t break my promises.”

  “She won’t know that we didn’t sit together, you goober.”

  He laughs a surprised sound. “Did you just call me a goober?”

  “You heard what I said. Why are you asking me to repeat it?” I toss back the words he used on me the first time he called me Jailbird.

  He laughs again. “Touché.” He settles back into his seat, setting his long legs out, clearly having no intention of moving. “And no can do, Jailbird. I have to sit here. I told you, Missy knows when I’m lying, and she’ll know if I didn’t sit with you.”

  “Argh! You’re insufferable! Is it your current mission in life to make my life miserable? Because, news flash, Mr. Perfect: my life is already shitty, so there’s not much more you can do!”

  His head tilts to the side, like he’s seeing me for the first time. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he says, totally throwing me off course.

  “What?” I snap.

  “Glasses. I didn’t know you wore them.”

  I touch my hand to them. “Why would you? It’s not like you know a single thing about me.”

  “Well, you know that’s not true, Jailbird. I know you like to crash cars in your spare time.”

  “Fuck you,” I hiss.

  He lets out a low rumble, the sound reverberating in his chest and straight into mine. “Jeez, the mouth on you. I’m just messing with you. But I do know something else about you.”

  “What? That I like to drink? Ha-ha. Yeah, you’re frigging hilarious.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “Okay, fine. Go on then; enlighten me, Mr. Perfect.” I throw out a gesturing hand. “Get it out of your system, and then leave me the hell alone.”

  He leans his head over, closer to mine. His eyes are bright in the darkness, and my body stills. Every molecule that makes me up is frozen solid.

  “I was going to say”—his minty breath brushes over my skin—“that you look pretty when you wear glasses.”

  My mouth drops open. Then, closes. Then, opens again.

  “Wha…” I eventually manage to get out.

  “Hush.” He admonishes, eyes flicking toward the screen. “Movie’s starting.”

  Then, you know what the cheeky son of a bitch does?

  He digs his hand into my popcorn and takes a handful of it, stuffing it in his mouth, eyes smiling at me.

  He’s stunned me into silence. I’m just sitting here, staring at him, goldfish gaping.

  “Close your mouth, Jailbird, and watch the damn movie.”

  “You look p
retty when you wear glasses.”

  I finally move my eyes from him to the screen to watch the movie with my heart beating a brand-new rhythm.

  “Well, there’s two hours of my life I’m never getting back,” Ares complains as we leave the theater.

  “An hour and forty-five actually. And are you being serious? I loved it.”

  “It was crap, and you know it, Jailbird.”

  My brows crash together. “Pfft. You wouldn’t know a good movie if it came up and smacked you in the face.”

  He stops walking and stares down at me. “And you would?”

  “Yep.” I give him a knowing grin and start walking, leaving him behind.

  I exit through the door, into the throng of the other moviegoers, and out into the chilly night.

  I stop outside the theater, zipping up my jacket, and start debating on whether to walk or grab a cab.

  “I’m driving you home.” Ares’s voice comes from beside me.

  I slide a glance in his direction. “You drove here?”

  “Yep. Come on.” He starts to walk away, expecting me to follow him.

  “No, thanks. I’ll take a cab.”

  “I’m driving you home,” he repeats with a firmness that irritates me.

  “Don’t tell me…” I put a hand on my hip. “Missy said you had to.”

  “She actually said I had to make sure you got home okay, and by that, she meant, see you safely to your front door, and I know you don’t drive, so I’m driving you.”

  “Don’t you ever tell her no?”

  He laughs loudly. “If only. I learned years ago to just do as she says; it makes my life a whole lot easier.”

  I sigh and roll my eyes. He might be an asshole, but he loves his sister. Can’t fault him for that.

  “Fine. Where’s your car?”

  “Just over here.”

  I follow him toward a big, shiny black truck. Surprisingly, he opens the door for me.

  “Erm…thanks,” I say as I move past him to get in.

  And…sweet Lord, it’s high. And I’m vertically challenged.

  Okay, I can do this.

  I’m just thanking foresight that I wore jeans tonight.

  I lift my leg, managing to get my foot on the edge of the car. One hand on the door, the other on the seat, I try to hoist myself in…and fail.

  I hear him laugh behind me, so I scowl at him over my shoulder.

  He shrugs and smiles. “You need a boost in?”

  “Fuck off,” I bite.

  “You and your filthy mouth.” He tuts, head shaking, amusement in his eyes.

  “Fuck off, please.” I give him a saccharine smile.

  He laughs loudly, his eyes sparkling, and I hate the glow in my chest that I feel, knowing I made him laugh.

  “You’re funny when you want to be, Jailbird,” he tells me, still chuckling. “But you are ridiculously small.”

  “I am not ridiculously small.” I glower at him.

  “Mmhmm.” He nods, lips pressed together. “You keep telling yourself that.”

  “It’s a fact.”

  “You can’t even climb in my truck, Jailbird.”

  “Stop calling me that!” I snap. “I can’t get in your truck because it’s ridiculously big!”

  “It’s a normal-sized truck. You’re just undersized.”

  “Ugh, shut up, you big…tree.”

  “Original.” I can almost hear his mental eye roll from here. “Now, stop being bitchy, and let’s do this.” He steps over me, and I hold out a hand, stopping him.

  “And what exactly are you doing?” I suspiciously eye him.

  He raises a brow. “Helping you in my truck. I’d like to get home at some point tonight.”

  “If your hands touch anywhere near my ass, I will kick yours.”

  “Don’t worry, Jailbird. I have zero interest in touching your ass. You’re not my type.”

  Before I can register his words, large hands grip either side of my waist and lift me like a toddler into the car.

  “There. That was easy, wasn’t it?” he says smugly.

  I give him a fake smile and the middle finger.

  Laughing, he shuts the door and rounds the truck, climbing in the driver’s side.

  Engine on, the radio comes to life with Fall Out Boy’s “Alone Together,” and I want to laugh out loud.

  Apparently, I do because he says, “What?” He pulls the truck out onto the street.

  “Oh, nothing. Just this song.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “No, I do. It’s just…the lyrics remind me of…getting sober.”

  He goes silent. Then, he says in a quieter voice, “I didn’t know that’s what this song was about.”

  I glance at him. His eyes are fixed on the road ahead.

  “I don’t know for sure that it is. It’s just the way I interpret it—addiction and the road to recovery. It probably means different things for different people.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. The only sound is Patrick Stump’s voice flowing through the car.

  “So”—his voice sounds gruff—“where am I taking you?”

  I rattle off my address, and then that’s it for the rest of the ten-minute journey it takes to get to my apartment. We don’t speak another word.

  He pulls up near the sidewalk across from my apartment building, and I let out an audible groan when I take in the person sitting on the steps that lead into my building.

  “What?” he asks. His eyes must follow my gaze because the next thing he says is, “Who’s that?”

  I turn my eyes to his. The glow of the dash lighting his face.

  “My ex-boyfriend,” I tell him.

  His eyes seem to burn brighter in this moment. “A recent ex?”

  I shake my head. “We broke up before…it was his car that I crashed that night. We were at a party. I caught him…with his pants around his ankles…and a friend of mine was…yeah, anyway, I left the party, got in his car, and…you know the rest.”

  “Well, he sounds like a real…catch.”

  I let out a laugh. “I honestly don’t know what he’s doing here. I haven’t seen him since that night.”

  “Let me see you to your apartment.” He takes off his seat belt.

  “No, it’s fine. Kyle’s harmless. But thank you. And thank you for the ride home.”

  He’s staring at me, saying nothing. His jaw is tight. He looks like he’s angry with me, and I don’t know what I’ve done now to piss him off.

  And, honestly, I don’t want to know.

  It was surprisingly not a bad night—once the movie got going, and he stopped talking. I don’t want it to be spoiled.

  Although I have a feeling that Kyle is going to ruin it for me when I get out of this truck and go over there.

  “Well, I’ll see you,” I say to Ares. I retrieve my bag from the floor, hang it on my shoulder, and open the truck door.

  “You gonna be able to get out okay?” He doesn’t sound like he’s being sarcastic for once but actually asking a genuine question.

  I glance over at him. “I’ll be fine. But, if I break my ankle on the way down, I’m suing. Just so you know.”

  I grin, and he chuckles softly.

  I shift my butt to the edge of the seat. Holding on to the door with one hand, I jump down, landing steadily on the sidewalk.

  “See? Easy,” I tell him with flair before shutting the door of his truck.

  I cross the street, walking toward my building. As I get closer, I make my footfalls a little heavier, so Kyle will hear me.

  And he does. His head comes up. The moment he spots me, he stands up. Then, I spot the bottle of beer on the step beside him.

  He’s been drinking.

  Of course he’s been drinking.

  “What are you doing here?” I say to him as I approach, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps.

  My eyes take him in for the first time in almost seven months.

  He lo
oks the same—but also different.

  It’s like I’m seeing him through fresh eyes, which I guess I am. His once-spiky blond hair is now overgrown and looks like it hasn’t been washed for days. Dark circles ring his eyes. His cheeks are hollow. His clothes look disheveled.

  Is that how I used to look? A mess.

  Kyle comes down the steps to me. I see the sway in his movements, telling me that he’s had a lot more than one beer. He stops on the bottom step, standing before me.

  The smell of beer on his breath instantly hits me and throws me back to another time.

  A bad time.

  I take a step back, and he notices, a dark frown crossing his face.

  I wrap my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?” I repeat, more forcefully this time.

  “I came to see you. I’ve been waiting for over an hour. Where have you been?”

  “Out.”

  “Okay,” he says when he realizes I’m not going to elaborate. “I tried to call you after that night. But I kept getting your voicemail. Then, it said the number had been disconnected.”

  “I changed my number.”

  “To keep me away?”

  “That was one of the reasons.”

  His shoulders slump. “I, um…heard you went to rehab.”

  “I did. But you didn’t come here to talk about my time in rehab. So, what is it you want?”

  His eyes lift to me. “I miss you.”

  Oh, hell no.

  “And it took you almost seven months to realize that?”

  “I haven’t just realized. I’ve never gotten over you. I’ve only just found the courage to come see you.”

  “Sure, Kyle. And does Cherry know you’re here? I’m assuming you guys are dating. I’d hope so after I found her with her mouth around your cock.”

  He winces. “It was a stupid mistake, babe. She’d been hounding me for months, trying to get with me. I resisted, but that night, I was…I don’t know.” He pushes his hand into his hair. “I loved you. I love you.”

  “Funny way of showing it. And you know what, Kyle? I don’t believe you. I think Cherry saw sense and dumped you, and for some reason, you thought it’d be a good idea to come and see me because you figured I’d be dumb enough to take you back. Well, news flash: I’m sober now, meaning I’m not as stupid as I used to be.”

  “Come on, Arianna Banana.”