Page 29 of Rush

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.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You used to love it when I called you that.”

“Nope. I always hated it. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings at the time, so I pretended to like it. Guess what? I don’t give two shits about your feelings anymore.”

“You’re being a bitch.” He steps close, getting in my face, but I refuse to move or show any signs of weakness. He’s not huge by guy standards—five-ten—but he’s still a hell of a lot taller than me. “What? You think you’re better than me now because you’re all sober and shit and working for your daddy?”

How does he know I work for my dad?

“No,” I say, staring up into his face. “I’ve always been better than you. You’re a loser, and I was an idiot to ever think you weren’t.”

I go to move past him, but he grabs hold of my arm, stopping me.

“Let me go,” I firmly tell him.

He ignores me. His grip on my arm increases. “We’re not finished here, Arianna.”

“Yes, we are! Now, let me go!” I yell, hating the tremble I hear in my voice.