The bright flashes in his eyes when he pokes and prods are hard to miss. I swear yesterday he took as long as possible to change out of his practice gear and strip down to shower. I don’t know if this is that payback he’s supposedly going to dole out on me, or what. I took the fastest, coldest shower of my life and got the fuck out of there before he finished. It’s reminiscent of camp this summer, only now I’m not blind to everything else about him. That’s the real frustrating part. Why can’t I get over this stupid attraction to him? My brain and my dick won’t get on the same page.
I sigh and slow my pace until I’m walking with my arms perched atop my head, sucking in deep breaths of oxygen.
I should shut down this weirdness with him immediately. Hell, I should just kick his ass. Ishoulddo a lot of things. I haven’t decided what I’m actually going to do, except I know I’m a selfish bastard, and if Dacen Becker continues to parade himself around me, taunting me, we’re liable to end up tangled together somewhere, preferably naked. I could let myself have a little fun with him and then walk away for good. It’s not gonna hurt anyone, and it’s not like there’s anything else there to go after anyway. I don’t date and don’t do relationships, not that I’d ever considered one with him anyway.
“Get it together, Ryne. Seriously,” I mutter to myself and run up the front porch steps.
Just fucking focus and finish.
Focus. And. Finish.
Forget everything else.
Forget Becker.
* * *
On my wayout of the bathroom after grabbing a quick shower, I pound my fist heavily on Rylee’s door.
*THUMP*THUMP*THUMP*
“Wakey, wakey, princess!” I smirk at her reply—a few screeched swear words and promises of murder—and bang on the door once more for good measure. “Get your ass up, Rye Bread,” I bark out. “Or you’re walking to school.” It’s not an idle threat and from the grumbling and shuffling behind her closed door, she knows it. I start to walk away when her door flies open.
“Ryne,” she yawns and frowns. “Do you have to be such a jerk this early in the morning?”
Her long hair is in a tangly mess around her shoulders, and with the rumpled pajamas and lack of makeup, she looks more like the little five-year-old girl I picture from happier times. For some reason that makes me even grouchier. It’s no fault of hers, but my mouth has a mind of its own.
“Do you have to subject me to your breath this early in the morning, which by the way smells like rotten deer flesh?” She has the audacity to look insulted and slams the door in my face. “Pain in my ass,” I grumble and head over to my room to get ready.
I’ve tamed my hair and the run and shower helped with everything else. I scrutinize myself closely, then pull the loose t-shirt off and replace it with a fitted t-shirt in a digital camo print. I try to convince myself it’s because it’s more comfortable, but who am I kidding? My arms look damn good in it, and that’s the simple fact of the matter.
But who exactly are you trying to impress?
The answer is simple and yet oh so complicated.
I put a baseball hat on, pull the brim down low, then lift my chin up to peer at myself in the mirror. If I let my eyes relax and unfocus, the reflection in the mirror resembles Dad more than me. At least, the way I remember him. It’s been so long his image is starting to fade in my mind, the specific details lost to the years. I blink my eyes and take a step back. I don’t have time for this shit right now. With a sigh, I grab my backpack and throw it over one shoulder, then swipe my phone and keys off my dresser. As I head downstairs to wait for Rylee, I hear Dad in the back of my head again.
You got this, bubs.
“Yeah, but what exactly do I got, Dad?” As usual, the only reply is silence. It’d be a lot more helpful if he were actually here to answer the question.
A bit later the bagel I’m toasting in the kitchen pops up. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Shit.” I toss it down on the counter and blow on my fingers, then grab a butter knife.
“You are so weird.”
The knife goes clattering to the floor when I nearly jump out of my skin. Rylee brushes off myI’m your ride, don’t mess with melook with a wave of her hand. I push another bagel into the slots and call out over my shoulder, “Announce your presence next time, buttface.” I grab a new knife from the drawer and get busy while Rylee digs around in the refrigerator for a bottle of juice. My bagel pops up and I grab it—not with my fingers this time—and cover each half with approximately one hundred inches of peanut butter.
“Gross, Ryne, ew.”
I hold her eye while I slap the two halves together and take an extra-large, extra obnoxious bite. Peanut butter squirts out around the entire thing and the bagel fucking burns the roof of my mouth, but it’s worth the expression on her face. I clean it up with my tongue and wipe my mouth on a kitchen towel and toss it aside. Rylee’s lips curl up into a cringe but her face chills when I hand food to her, wrapped in a paper towel. She peers inside and back at me, then digs in with a small smile.
“Thank you,” she mumbles around a mouthful.
I chuckle and wrap my food up. “And you call me weird.”
I give her ponytail a tug as I walk past to grab our bags and head to the garage door. Her bagel topping of choice, by the way, is cream cheese and Hot Cheetos. Yeah, you heard me right.
“Let’s go turd nugget. We can eat on the way to school.” I turn around quickly and nearly end up wearing her breakfast. I bend forward and get into her personal space. “If you spill in my truck—”
