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Why do I do this to myself? Guys like him don’t go for girls like me. I’m a toy to them. A game. And these types of guys, they all have the same rules of play: smile, trick me into thinking that they like me, then toss me to the side once I’ve been used. How many countless losers do I have to stupidly make out with only to regret it in the morning? Over the past year—too many.
But while listening to Ryan easily digress into a conversation with Scott about baseball, I swear that I’m done with loser guys. Done with feeling used. Just done.
And this time, I won’t break the promise— no matter how lonely I get.
“Yeah,” Ryan says to Scott as if I’m not standing right here, as if I’m not important enough to involve in conversation. “I think the Reds have a shot this year. ”
God, I hate Ryan. Standing there all perfect with his perfect life and perfect body and perfect smile, pretending he never laid eyes on me before. He glances at me from the corner of his eye and I realize why he’s pouring on the charm. Ryan wants to impress Scott. Guess what? Misery definitely loves company. My life shouldn’t be the only one that sucks. “He hit on me. ”
Silence as my words kill the moronic baseball conversation. Scott rubs his eyes.
“You just met him. ”
“Not now. Friday night. He hit on me and he stared at my ass while he did it. ”
Joy. Utter joy. Okay, not utter, but the sole joy I’ve had since Friday night. Ryan yanks off his hat, runs his hand through his mess of sandy-blond hair, and shoves the hat back on. I like him better with his hat off.
“Is this true?” Scott asks.
“Yes,” stutters Ryan. “No. I mean yes. I asked for her phone number, but she didn’t give it to me. But I was respectful, I swear. ”
“You stared at my ass. A lot. ” I turn and lean over a little so I can give a demonstration.
“Remember, there was a rip right along here. ” I slide my finger along the back of my leg.
“You bought me tacos afterward. And a drink.
So I’m assuming you must have enjoyed the view. ”
I hear muffled male comments and I peek at the crowd of men farther down the sidewalk.
The first genuine smile slips across my face.
Scott’s going to love a show. Maybe if I push hard enough I’ll be home in Louisville by dinner.
“Elisabeth. ” Scott drops his voice to trailer-park pissed. “Turn around. ”
Twelve different shades of red blotch Ryan’s cheeks. He doesn’t even look at my ass, but at my uncle. “Okay…yes, I asked her out. ”
Scott does a double take. “You asked her out?”
Hey now. Why’s he surprised? I’m not a dog.
“Yes,” says Ryan.
“You wanted to take her on a date?”
Uh-oh. Scott sounds happy. No. I’m not going for happy.
“Yes. ” Ryan holds out his hands. “I thought…I thought…”
“That I would be easy?” I snap, and Scott winces.
“That she was funny,” Ryan says.
Yeah. I’m sure that’s exactly what he thought. “More like you thought it would be fun to screw with me. Or just plain screw. ”
“Enough,” hisses Scott. His narrowing blue eyes rage at me as I thrust my hands in the stiff pockets of the new jeans. Scott lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose before forcing that fake relaxed grin into place. “I apologize for my niece. She’s had a rough weekend. ”
