He glances at his watch with a frown. “I don’t know, can you?”
Ignoring the remark, I jut my thumb out to the side. “We could sit down over there.”
“You could.”
I grit my teeth and then force myself to relax by taking a deep breath. “Come on, Ryne. I’m just asking to speak to you, not asking you to take me on a date.”
Ryne sneers with the ferocity of an angry wild lion. “I don’t date.”
He makes everything unnecessarily difficult. I chew the side of my lip and sigh, but manage to hold back the eye roll that so desperately wants to be set free. “Can we at least stand over there?” I gesture over to the area with my hands. “So we’re not directly in front of the door? Unless you want to get hit in the ass with it every time it swings open.”
Ryne’s lips twitch and then he makes a similar gesture with his hands. We walk over to one of the picnic tables and sit down. It’s a small win. I straddle the bench seat and Ryne sits down on top of the table with his feet resting on the wood beside me.
“I like your boots.” They’re dark brown Carhartt boots and I only know that because it says Carhartt on the side. But I do like them. They’re very Ryne Sutton. Rugged and attractive.
He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Is this what you wanted to talk about? I have next to zero knowledge about fashion, as you’ve no doubt noticed, so I don’t think I’m your guy for that kind of conversation.”
I blink at him a few times with my mouth open. “Did you just say something almost funny and not overly snarky? To me.” I point to my chest.
Ryne coughs into his hands and I’m ninety-five percent certain it’s to hide a laugh and/or a smile. He shrugs and sits up.
“Don’t get used to it. I still don’t like you.”
“But you ARE attracted to me.”
The almost-smile on his face drops and his perma-scowl makes a grand re-entrance.
“I’m not attracted to you. You’re delusional. I don’t like you.”
I don’t know where this over-confidence comes from, but I want to push. I’m not typicallyunconfident but I’m also not usuallyquitethis forward. Ryne seems to always be the one to bring it out of me.
“Keep telling yourself that, Ryne. Besides, you don’t have to like someone to be attracted to them. Trust me,” I retort dryly. “I know all about that.”
The light inside him that’s always there even when it seems like he’s in a shroud of darkness flashes brightly and his lips twitch again. The smirk is better than the scowl, so I’ll take it.
“You don’t want me to be attracted to you, Becker.”
His words startle me and the intensity pouring from him washes over me like the tide coming in, invading every nook and crevice within me. With his next words, he sucks me back out to sea with him, his gravitational pull is that strong.
“I’d eat you alive.”
I suck in a breath and sit up straight. I’d subconsciously leaned closer and closer to his leg until my arm brushed against it. Something in him pulls at me, apparently literally.
“Wow, the loud blabbermouth is actually speechless for once. Amazing. It’s like a once in a blue moon thing, ain’t it?”
But then again, sometimes he’s such a dick. Of course, I apparently subscribe to his brand of torture, so I don’t know what that says about me. There’s just something about him that intrigues me, has me wanting to reach inside that gruff and moody exterior to see what’s underneath. I got so close I could almost touch it this summer at camp. My fingers twitch at the memories so I stick them under my legs and sit on them.
I’m so, so curious to see what’s beneath those smirks and glares of his. People say curiosity killed the cat; I hate that expression. Not only is it a cheesy cliché, but new and amazing things come from curiosity. I have a sneaking suspicion Ryne Sutton is one of those fascinating discoveries just waiting for the right gutsy explorer to come along, someone with enough balls to go for it. All I have to do is reach out, take the plunge. Now, granted, when I pull my hand back it might be missing a few fingers. But I have a feeling whatever I find will be worth the pain.
“I don’t know, Ryne. First of all, who says I don’t want you to eat me alive?” I give him a pointed stare. “Second of all, you should have more faith in me. I’m fairly confident I can take anything you have to dish out. Which leads me to my third point, in a roundabout way. The reason I wanted to talk to you.”
He sits there quietly, for once no smirk or scowl on his face. His expression is simply calm as he waits for me to speak. I clear my throat and stand up, turning so we’re face to face. It seems like this is something I shouldn’t say sitting down staring at his boots. I shove my hands in my pockets, then pull them back out and crack my knuckles. Nervous habit and I’m totally stalling again. I take a big breath in and count backward from ten as I exhale. And then I reach out and dip one finger into his murky waters.
“I know you don’t like me.” It takes all of my restraint not to use air quotes but whatever. “I don’t really understand why.” His face going from neutral to frown gives me pause. Anxiety flares hot in my gut but I force myself to continue. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize for the other day, in speech class. When I was talking with Matt. About you.” My arms cross over my body and I squeeze my biceps. “It was kind of rude. And I’m sorry.”
My words are all choppy but at least I got them out. Ryne just stares at me with his lips turned down. He stares. And stares. And stares some more. But no words. Each breath I take is increasingly shallow as the silence stretches on, and little pinpricks start popping up in my vision. My shoulders slouch down and I let my hands fall.
“Okay,” he responds at last. The bell signaling the end of lunch period sounds in the distance. How have we been here for almost ten minutes? My heart pounds in my chest, but the anxiety subsides because he at least acknowledged my words.
